


A Deep Hole

by Wildwildworld



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Depression, Disturbed Chronology, Drug Withdrawal, Flash Forward, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Mental Health Issues, Post-Season/Series 03, Protective brothers, Recovery, Suspense, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22088521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildwildworld/pseuds/Wildwildworld
Summary: "Sometimes you get the feeling that it can't be worse. That you've reached your limit, the limit of any human being, and you simply cannot endure anymore. He felt that way, lying on this cold floor, bruised and battered. With dizzy head and broken shoulder. Shattered ribs and sore guts. Wounded leg and bloody mouth."Both boys struggle to deal with their demons, while another demon crawls out of the ground, casting a shadow on the brothers' lives.***Not season 04 compliant!
Relationships: Jessica Davis/Justin Foley, Justin Foley & Clay Jensen
Comments: 84
Kudos: 247





	1. The Lurking Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker of English, so please forgive me my grammar! I won't be offended if you point my mistakes out. Feel free to say whatever you want :)  
> It's been my first fic for ages, and first one ever in English. Peace & love for everyone and I hope you'll enjoy it either way <3

First he felt the blood. A strong, nauseating taste of iron in his mouth. Then pain. A searing, agonizing shudder tearing his body apart. And buzzing. An unbearable, high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Confusion came next. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly, only the see the sheer blackness. Closing the eyelids changed nothing.

He was lying on his side, he could say that. It was cold. The floor was cold and wet. Or maybe _he_ was wet?

The stiff tongue was the only thing in his body he could move. The overwhelming pain left him paralyzed. Swallowing saliva and blood, he tried to stop the nausea. _That_ would be beyond unbearable.

_Focus._

The dizziness made it impossible. Having a blank space in his mind, he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the blood pulsating inside his head. With each minute, the agony intensified. _Focus_ , he reprimanded himself again.

The attempts to reminiscence _anything_ that happened proved fruitless, so he tried to analyze his position, fighting the arising panic. He’s screwed. He could say that.

He was tied, with hands behind his back. The shoulder beneath him hurt _as fuck_. His clothes were wet, and it was impossible to say whether it’s water, sweat, blood, or all at once. The fright made him breathe faster, which only made the pain worse. The involuntary moan escaped his mouth and he felt the bile coming up into his throat again. _No, no, no, please, no._

The convulsions came quickly. His body started to tremble, the cold sweat broke out all over him and he couldn’t avoid retching anymore. Contracting muscles made the pain insufferable. As the burning acid escaped his stomach, he suddenly felt lightheaded and passed out.

His mind drifted away to their kitchen. A neat, well-set table. The smell of lasagna.

***

“You’re not gonna eat this.”

Justin stared doubtfully at his brother’s plate. Usually it was him who devoured the half of prepared dinner. Clay, clearly amused by the reversed roles, stabbed the lasagna with a fork and stuffed his mouth with a piece that was definitely too big to eat at once, mocking his brother. Justin chuckled at the sauce dripping down his chin, while Clay shrugged his shoulders, chewing slowly. Lainie looked disgusted, but as she opened her mouth to reprimand the boys to eat neatly, Matt interfered. 

“I am aware that it is your favorite dish, but it is rude to prevent Justin from being well-fed.”

Clay sulked. “Oh, come on, he always eats nearly everything you cook and you’re okay with it!” He was still having a sauce smeared across his jaw and looked ridiculous, so Justin laughed again, chewing with half-open mouth. 

“I’m just kidding, kiddo, take as much as you want.” Matt looked pleased. Probably nothing made him happier than the family’s appreciation of his cuisine. “You haven’t skipped a family meal and you’re not picky. It’s a rarity,” he teased. 

Lainie sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “Just wipe it off, please.” 

Clay frowned. “Okay, mom.” 

Out of the blue, Clay rubbed Justin’s cheek with his fork, leaving an orangish smudge and got off the table. Justin protested and started chasing the brother disappearing in the hallway.

“I dare you!” Clay shouted joyfully.

***

The pain returned sooner than the consciousness. Groaning, he opened his eyes, but the room was as dark as before. The taste of blood changed to the taste of bile. The dizziness and buzzing persisted. He tried taking a deep breath to calm himself down, but it only caused the cry of pain. He turned on his back to ease the pain in his shoulder, but he could feel that it was the least of his problems. His ribs were probably crushed, too. 

He tried to focus. He tried so hard. To move, scream, struggle. The torment blurred his mind. He felt like a broken puppet, smashed by a car. Abandoned God knows where. Then it hit him. 

His brother. _What if he's here too?_ He’d be scared shitless too. He opened his mouth to shout his name, but the sudden creak and a hurtful beam of light interrupted him.

Two heavy steps.

“Well, well. You’re awake, shithead?”

He could swear he knew this voice. He definitely knew it.

* * *

“Come on, we’ll be late.”

Usually it was Justin who couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, but for some time, the roles have reversed. 

Clay was depressed. All of these events they had to face in recent months have left a painful mark on him. The painful breakup with Ani, who left the city with her mother last month, did not help either.

Justin knew it was bad. He felt powerless. He looked after his brother as best he could, hoping that improvement would finally come. Driving Clay to the therapist made him feel a little less useless. 

He tossed his brother's clothes on the bed and sat down next to him on the bed, with a cup of coffee in his hand. Clay pulled the blanket over his head and turned around.

“Come on, here’s the coffee. Don’t be rude and drink it,” Justin said, gently patting his brother's shoulder. After a while, Clay finally sighed, sat on the bed and silently grabbed the cup.

“Car, in five,” Justin commanded and left.

As it was the day of therapy, Justin dropped Clay off on his way to Monet’s, as always. Clay watched as the car disappeared by the corner and sighed, entering the building where Dr. Ellman had his office.

He hated going there, but he knew he had no choice. An hour of mere talking could not heal him. He knew that. Maybe even Justin knew that, but Clay owed him that.

***

Clay found it again.

_What makes it so tempting?_ he wondered, staring in the powder on the silver foil. _Why he loves it so much?_

Justin wasn't forced to quit. He _asked_ for help. Then he pleaded to stay clean, but Clay found it again. For the fourth time.

First time, he was sincerely disappointed. He went straight to their parents and caused a real storm. Lainie snapped. Matt got into a fight with her, trying to calm her down. They had given each other the silent treatment for a week. Justin was devastated and promised not to do it again. Clay believed.

For the second time, he was angry. He went straight to Monet’s and punched Justin in the face. His brother didn’t protest. He apologized, again. He sweared, again. Clay believed.

The third time wasn’t a surprise. Clay nearly laughed when he found Justin’s stash. Annoyed, he confronted him. Justin cried, apologized, promised. Clay didn’t believe. “I know you’re gonna use again, Justin.” Justin wanted to disagree, but he knew he couldn’t. “I’m trying, Clay. I’m trying.”

So when Clay found the heroin again, he wanted to understand. He carefully studied the foil, the powder, the lighter. He gazed into the flame, thinking about this feeling that Justin clearly kept chasing. Clay started to crave it. 

_If it allows Justin to survive, to feel better, maybe it will work for me too._

He was holding a lighter in one hand and foil with powder in the other. He started to play with the lighter, teasing with himself. Feeling that the desire to find relief is stronger than his sanity, he kept playing with the fire. Absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't hear when Justin came back.

The moment Justin saw Clay, with the foil, lit lighter and dead eyes fixed on it, he went completely mad. He grabbed him, pulled him up and forcefully pushed him against the wall, repeatedly.

“What the fuck, Clay! What the fuck!” He pushed Clay over and over again. 

Clay was confused, as if he has just woken up from a trance. Justin’s fury startled him. “I–, I–,” he stuttered, blinking rapidly. 

“You can’t, Clay, you can’t!” Justin let go of his brother, turned around and hit the wall so hard that the plaster crumbled. He repeated, “What the fuck!” and exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. He leaned his forehead against the wall. “Did you smoke it?” he whispered.

“No, I was–, I was wondering,” Clay mumbled, folding his arms with eyes fixed on the floor. The powder was spread beneath him. Justin approached him again, breathing heavily. 

“ _Wondering?_ Have you lost your fucking mind?!” It was so loud and angry that Clay cringed. “You wanted to take it?!” Silence. “Answer me, dammit! You were goin’ to take it?!” 

It was more of a statement than a question, which made Clay feel guilty. He raised his head and looked at Justin. He expected to see hostility in his eyes; instead, there was nothing but pain. His cheeks glistened with tears. Justin was more terrified than angry.

“I wanted to ease it all,” Clay blurted. “It clearly helps _you_.”

Justin hid his face with his palms, shaking his head and slipped to the ground. Clay, visibly stumped, slowly joined him and studied his face. Justin’s been devastated before, but this – this was different. 

“It’s all my fault. I brought this fucking shit into your life and it’s messing with you. You think it could solve your problems? Look how it screwed me.” Justin silently sobbed.

Clay sighed. “And yet, you’re still using. Tell me” – he moved a bit, closing the gap between them – “why? Why, after everything we’ve tried?”

Justin sniffed and wrapped arms around his legs. Now he looked like a lost boy, younger than he was.

“You’re constantly quitting and coming back, aren’t you? That’s why you’re still taking Methadone?” Clay continued.

Justin silently nodded. “I know I’m a fucking junkie. I’m broken and I can’t fix myself. And you can’t fix me too. I know that you’re a mess too, but you don’t need it. Don’t think about it. It’s not worth it.”

“I just wanted to feel what it feels like.” Clay shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t intend to become a heroin user.” 

It made Justin laugh bitterly. “You take it once and you’re lost. I know what I’m sayin’, man.”

“I just want to understand, Justin. You’re always pretending that everything’s fine, how am I supposed to understand why you’re doing this to yourself? To me? Mom and dad?”

Clay knew that making Justin feel guilty is not a solution. Well, he even knew that it is the _worst_ thing that he can say. It’s the guilt that drove Justin to drugs. Clay regretted his words right away.

“Being doped up won’t give you answers.” Justin wiped the tears from his face and added, “I’m sorry for letting you down again. I know I’m a fucking loser.”

“You’re not a loser. You’re just lost. You’re broken, but not unrepairable.”

They both sat in heavy silence for a while, when Justin muttered, “You said you want to ease it all.”

Clay lowered his head and said nothing. Justin caught his face into his hands, forcing Clay to look up. There was something disturbing in Clay's eyes. Emptiness. Indifference.

“I get it, you’re in a dark place,” Justin whispered. Clay remained silent and avoided looking in his eyes. “You’re scaring me, man. I couldn't stand it if you did something to yourself. Turning to drugs is a very, very bad sign.”

Suddenly, Clay broke free of his grasp and jumped to his feet with an outburst of anger. “You're a fine one to talk, you know! You promised to stay clean! Have you at least lasted for a few days?” he rebuked. Justin stood up as well, but he didn't get provoked.

“I know that I let everyone down. You, Jess, the folks. But I’m struggling, you know?” Justin sighed and folded his arms.

“Jess knows?”

“A bit.”

Clay huffed, “So you’re lying to her too?”

“No, I– I told her that I’m still trying to figure it out. How to be clean. That sometimes it's stronger than me.” Justin paused for a minute, gathering his thoughts. “It’s like trying to crawl out of a hole, all muddy and unsteady. I keep losing ground, and I keep falling back down. But I swear to you that I want to get out. I want to live. Can you say the same, Clay?”

***

They made an agreement. Clay was to visit the therapist regularly, so there he was, standing in front of dark, wooden door, staring on the golden letters on the non-transparent glass.

**Dr. ROBERT ELLMAN**

It took a while before he finally entered the room. 

During the session he was restrained and quiet. As usual. Dr. Ellman wanted Clay to open up, but the therapist's efforts went nowhere. As usual. They spent an entire hour talking about his bad mood. Clay agreed to try new motivation techniques, which he would ignore later.

When the alarm clock beeped, indicating the end of session, Clay stood up and headed for the door. However, the therapist stopped him.

“Clay, I think our therapy does not bring the expected outcome. I cannot see any positive reaction to the prescribed medication, either. I’ll talk to your parents and discuss possible options for the future.”

Clay froze. He turned around and raised his brows. “Don't get me wrong, but I am an adult now, aren’t you obliged to maintain professional secrecy?”

“You have to be honest with me, Clay, you know that. That's how it works.” Dr. Ellman crossed his legs and propped his chin in the palm of his left hand. “Engage in our sessions and I will reconsider my opinion.”

Clay rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever,” he darted and angrily pushed the door, leaving the office. 

Later he went straight to the Monet's. Slowly sipping coffee, he tried to ignore his brother's expectant look. Justin knew something was wrong. Clay fixed his eyes on the window and hissed, “He wants to call mom and dad.”

Justin nervously bit his lower lip and peered around, checking to see if there is any familiar face nearby who might want to overhear their conversation. “Why, what did he say?” he asked under his breath.

“He thinks it's not working. He wants to discuss it with them. I told him that he shouldn't.” Clay sighed. “But I guess he's right.”

Justin restlessly ran his fingers through his hair and studied Clay’s face carefully, raising eyebrows.

“You're taking your pills?”

“Yeah.”

Justin frowned. “No, you're not.”

“How would you know?”

“Seriously?”

It wasn’t their first conversation about it. It took a week to convince Clay to take the first pill, and after that Justin had to constantly remind Clay to take it. He was sure that sometimes his brother flushed it down the toilet. He didn't want to be nosy. Even though he was worried, he didn't want to say anything. He hoped the therapy was enough.

“Tell him the truth. And start taking them. He would give you more time, at least for two or three weeks, until the meds kick in,” he suggested. Then he sighed. “By the way, my two weeks went tits.”

That was Justin’s part of agreement. Full transparency. He was to report all his struggles, no matter what. As a part of the deal, neither of boys would informed Matt and Lainie about their troubles. Both wanted to keep their issues away from them. 

“How come? You’re high now?” Clay hissed. He rebuked himself for not noticing that Justin is all sweaty.

Justin folded his arms, closed his eyes and bit the twitching lip. That was a ‘yes’ . 

“I think I saw Seth outside.”

“What?!” Clay exclaimed involuntarily, then covered his mouth with a hand. He could feel the stares of other people around. He waited until everyone have returned to their affairs.

“He's not in prison?”

“I dunno. Maybe he's out.”

“Isn’t it too soon? You're sure it was him?” 

“I–, I don't know, I thought so. I got scared shitless.”

Clay sighed. “So you took the H?”

Justin shook his head, which caused Clay to heave a sigh of relief. “No, Tramadol.”

Clay tried not to be judgmental, in order not to undermine his brother’s trust, but it was hard to hide the disappointment. The good thing was that Justin switched to pills, at least slightly less addictive. Maybe it was a success.

Feeling the heavy atmosphere, they didn't talk anymore. Justin silently returned to his duties, and Clay unsuccessfully tried to write an essay for Monday's history classes. If he failed again, his mother would not leave him alone. He barely managed to stall her.

In the evening, while he was lying on the bed, fighting with closing eyelids, Justin bustled in the kitchenette. Washing wasn’t his style, but Clay wasn’t particularly surprised. Clearly the pill, that Justin took earlier, ceased working. He guessed that the uneasiness was caused by the withdrawal syndrome.

“Should I bring you Methadone?” he asked dully. It helped Justin to deal with withdrawing heroin and other stuff he sometimes took.

“No.” Justin’s voice was fierce, but shaky. He didn't stop polishing the plate.

“You're okay?”

Clay could feel Justin's growing irritation in the air.

“Leave me alone, ‘kay? I'm fine, just –” He sighed. “Take _your_ pill, would you?”

Clay reluctantly opened his drawer and took out a blister pack. Dragging his feet, he walked over to Justin, who hesitated for a moment. Then he put down the plate and poured a glass of water for his brother. Clay swallowed the tablet and handed the glass back.

“I mean, the Seth thing.”

Justin looked a little perplexed. He fixed eyes on the ground and remained silent for a long moment.

“Maybe I overreacted. Maybe it was someone similar. I don't really know.”

Clay returned to the bed and turned his face to the wall.

“I just want you to know that I have your back. Regardless of, you know. My mess.” 

Justin took a deep breath and went back to wiping the dishes.

“It’s just...he’s capable of _things_.”

Clay didn’t need reminding. Last time he saw Seth, only luck saved them from being shot. He raised his head, scanning the room again. 

Justin stood deflated. He looked as if he had a crushing weight on his shoulder. Much heavier than he could bear.

_In fact, that’s how it is_ , Clay thought. _He has to deal with his addiction, fucked up past and, additionally, cope with his brainless brother in depression who behaves like a rebellious teenager._

Justin was completing his part of the agreement. More than a month had passed and he consistently informed him of all times when he took something. _It’s high time I bucked up. For him._

“Justin,” he called his brother. “I’ll do my best, I promise. I’ll take the meds. I’ll try the therapy for real. You won’t have to protect me.”

Justin smiled slightly, though it was a smile full of fatigue.

“I will be overly protective either way, you dumbass.”

* * *

Sometimes you get the feeling that it can't be worse. That you've reached your limit, the limit of any human being, and you simply cannot endure anymore. He felt that way, lying on this cold floor, bruised and battered. With dizzy head and broken shoulder. Shattered ribs and sore guts. Wounded leg and bloody mouth. His face must have looked like a gory mass. At least he thought so, feeling that his left eye was so swollen that he couldn’t open it.

The man who arrived earlier left nothing but a few kicks. Probably. Although he couldn’t remember clearly. A hit in the guts, face, guts. As if he wasn't bashed enough.

Earlier he thought he was sore. That he couldn’t’ move from pain. But it was nothing in comparison to this.

Now all he was thinking was wishing that someone would end his torment. He couldn't redirect his thoughts to anything else. He no longer feared for his brother; he wasn’t able to. But he thought that he was probably alone there. It allowed him to abandon all attempts to explore the room or search for anyone. He could lie and wait for death.

He didn't know when he passed out again. The door squeaking and loud steps woke him up. Despite the pain, he cringed, trying to hide his face. It caused a loud and prolonged moan that amused the newcomer.

“How do you feel, honey?” he scorned, stopping right next to his head. He suddenly realized. Seth. It was Seth. He grabbed him by the hair violently, causing a violent groan. 

“I will crush you,” Seth drawled, emphasizing each word.


	2. Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin's confession during the Thanksgiving Day changed a lot. Or maybe nothing.

A heavy boot against a broken shoulder. A scream piercing the air, followed by an evil laughter. A quiet weeping, loud steps, squeaking hinges.

This time it was numbness that woke him up. As before, he opened his eyes to discover only impenetrable darkness. No longer did he feel the plastic digging into his skin, as the tie-wrap restraining his wrists was so tight that he couldn’t even feel his fingers anymore. A violent groan escaped his dry and wounded mouth when he tried to change position. As his face contorted, the dried blood on his face cracked, causing unbearable itching. He tried to bend and scratch the cheek against his arm, when a throbbing pain shot up his other shoulder. He gasped, suppressing a scream. The shoulder had been already broken before, but after Seth’s visit it was oddly twisted.

He didn’t know how many times he had already lost consciousness and woken up in this godforsaken place. He didn’t know how long he lay still in one position, but his aching body demanded movement, even though every twitch caused a new wave of unbearable pain.

Suddenly, the door opened, slightly lighting the room. He blinked rapidly with his right eye, as the other was still so swollen that he couldn't open it. A dark, brawny shape stood in the door, silently. The person held something in his hand. He cringed inside himself, waiting for what would happen next.

The intruder took half a step inside and put something on the floor and a bottle next to it. _Let it be water, please,_ he begged in his head.

Loud click of a pocketknife and approaching steps made his pulse race. “Please, no,” he managed to plead in a weak voice, expecting the worst. 

The black shape reached behind his back and cut the tie-wrap, slicing the skin underneath. To his relief, the person then left without a word, closing the door behind.

Reluctantly, he propped himself up on his elbow with his good arm and sat down, hissing in pain. Every move irritated his broken ribs and made him barely able to breathe. Circulating blood slowly withdrew numbness, but the tingling in the right shoulder persisted. He didn’t dare to try to move it. The arm hang down limply. 

Holding his side with a hand covered with fresh blood, he slowly curled his legs under him and struggled to his feet, despite the dizziness that fogged his mind. The heavy body did not want to cooperate. He staggered and lost his balance, falling awkwardly to the ground. Pain pierced his entire body and a violent, throaty roar came out of his mouth.

He would gladly press his cheek to the cold concrete floor again, but the paralyzing fear subsided and the survival instinct pushed him to fight, even though his body was lamentably weak. He wasn’t only battered, but also dehydrated and hungry. His stomach rumbled, despite the constant nausea. Still, he hoped that the bowl contained something that could be eaten. Panting loudly, he began to slowly crawl forward in the darkness, fighting the pain. 

After a moment, he knocked something over. 

It was a bottle.

He grabbed it, unscrewed the cap with his teeth and started to drink greedily. He sobered up and left the rest for later. Then he groped in the dark, carefully looking for anything else. He found a bowl, grabbed it and smelled the content. It was difficult to determine; odd, quite floury. He brought the bowl close to his lips and tilted it.

The content was thick, gooey and tasteless. He wondered if it wasn’t just bread mixed with water, but he didn't care. At least it was warm. After a few sips he put down the bowl, feeling the convulsions again. The stomach was definitely not ready to digest. He felt hot flushes and a cold sweat beaded his forehead. Before he realized, a sour, watery fluid spouted from his mouth, splashing the floor.

Groaning in pain, he slipped to the side and wiped his mouth. His head was spinning. Closing his eyes, he prayed for death. His ears kept ringing, constantly and horridly. Throbbing headache persisted. 

Then he realized that he’s not tied anymore.

He forced himself to raise his good hand and gently examined his scalp. The hair was hard, covered with dry blood, the skin was full of scabs and slightly damp. He guessed it was probably why he didn't remember anything. He definitely had a concussion. 

Slowly, he ran his hand over his body, examining the wounds. The ribs were sore, so as the entire abdomen. It hurt as if he was almost sliced in half; he was relieved to discovered no deep wounds. The leg injury seemed deep and extensive, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore, which he took as a moderately good sign.

Carefully, he sat up again and took a small sip of water. That’s what his mom would tell him to do. This thought made him warm inside. He started thinking about her. About the family. Friends. Then he felt fear growing again. _Are they safe? Isn’t Seth after them, too?_

As he was thinking about his home, a memory suddenly came back to him. 

They overslept and wildly rushed to school. 

He remembered driving Prius. 

He remembered the cyclist who stubbornly rode in the middle of the road, so he couldn't overtake him. 

And that was all.

 _Did we have an accident?,_ he wondered. He didn't even know if it was today, yesterday or a week ago.

He realized that his stomach accepted the water, so he took another sip and put a bowl into his hands. He didn’t dare to eat, but it was a nice thing, for a change; a pleasant warmth spreading throughout his body.

* * *

Justin knew that his confession during Thanksgiving dinner would have consequences. He was afraid, but he craved them. He desperately wanted to be punished.

But the Jensens offered him no punishment. They didn’t demand answers. They didn’t push him. “We’ll be there for you, whenever you need us,” that was what he heard.

It wasn’t what he expected. It wasn’t what he was used to. 

When he returned to the outhouse, he found Clay sitting on the bed, embracing his knees and gazing absently through the room. Justin sat quietly on the other bed and fixed his eyes into his hands that were still nervously twitching. 

“I didn’t help you, not a bit,” Clay muttered with shaky voice. “I’m so sorry.”

Justin frowned, raising his head. Clay kept staring absently in the other way. 

“Come on, man, you–,” he hesitated. “There was a lot going on. And my shit didn’t help. _I_ should’ve done more for _you_.”

Clay shook his head grimly and looked him in the eye. Justin wondered when was the last time he slept all night. Or _at all._ The bags under his eyes were even more livid and massive than before. 

“I should’ve helped you. I knew about the oxy, and that– that last time, and you’ve told me you’re barely managing. You’re my brother,” Clay said in a broken voice and sighed. “And before, I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known. Maybe none of this would've happened if I’d known. If I’d noticed.”

Justin hung his head in a sudden surge of guilt. “Yeah. If I wouldn’t been a fuckin’ junkie.”

“I– I didn’t mean that.”

“But it’s true. I was spaced out and I didn’t take care of Zach. I didn’t answer Jess’s calls. I wasn’t with you. Bryce is dead only because of–”

“Stop it,” Clay furrowed his brows and clenched his fists, nails digging into the skin.

Justin continued in one breath. “–me and everything that happened to you, and to Jess, and to Hannah is my fucking fault.” He hid his head in his hands, and a stifled sob shook his body. 

Not knowing what to do, Clay stormed out of his bed and sat beside Justin, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He was trembling, and Clay involuntarily started to wonder whether it’s anxiety or withdrawal. 

“Justin.” He breathed heavily. “Your mistakes is one thing. Addiction is another. Although I know it’s connected.”

Clay knew. Justin hadn’t started using until he published Hannah’s tapes. Being abandoned by Amber, homelessness, drugs, God knows what else – this chain of events began right then. Drugs suppressed the dreadful guilt that he carried. Clay, in fact, contributed to the Justin’s addiction.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve said,” Clay continued.“I just wanted to apologize for not being here for you.”

“You were, man.”

“Not enough. I didn’t do anything to help you. I–," he paused, taking a deep breath. "Let’s just fight this, okay?”

Justin sniffed and raised his head. Wiping his face, he gave Clay a crooked smile. “Yeah.” 

“What mom and dad said?”

Justin lowered his head and closed his eyes in response.

Clay went on to say, “Was it bad?”

“No, they...Lainie wants us to go to the counselling centre. Like, all four of us. To make some kind of plan, or whatever.”

Clay nodded and patted him on the back in the gesture of reassurance. “We’ll get through it. Okay? You hear me? We'll get through it.”

***

_I should’ve noticed. I should’ve known. I should’ve done something._

These thoughts kept going through Lainie’s mind all night. Unable to sleep, she was restless in the morning. Although, given the circumstances, she wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t have been anyway.

Clay was quiet all the way. Justin tried to clear the air with nervous small talk, but no one was really talkative. Matt tried to answered him casually, but he was no less upset than Lainie.

She was afraid of what they’d have to do. She was afraid that Justin would not cooperate. That he would not agree.

He did, however, accepted anything they said. Searching the outhouse. Managing his money. Pharmacological support. Meetings.

He agreed and said he was relieved that they didn’t send him away, which left Lainie heartbroken. 

***

‘Pharmacological support’. It was nothing like detoxing at Clay’s bedroom floor. Thanks to the gradually reduced dose of Methadone, he almost felt no withdrawal symptoms. Twitching hands, cold sweat and dizziness felt like nothing in comparison to what he had expected. 

Meeting with the counsellor wasn’t bad either. At first, Justin went there two times a week. After two weeks, he honestly believed that he could be clean. 

They were right about the reasons. They were right about the need to forgive himself. He was nodding, agreeing and talking about his feelings and his attempts to cope with them. 

Then he learned to answer questions according to the expectations and realized that he is no longer honest. He just repeated himself.

***

Justin woke up to the sound of sobbing. Startled, he raised his head to notice a dark, bowed silhouette by the kitchenette. 

“Clay?” He sat down, straining his eyes. He wasn’t sure.

Silence. A quiet sniff.

He put the light on and rubbed his eyes. Seeing Clay, bent over the table and trembling, he felt his heart racing. Slightly panicked, he approached him and crouched beside him, placing a hand on his forearm.“What happened?”

Clay raised his head. His eyes were puffy and red, his lower lip quivered as he looked at Justin. He opened his mouth, but he seemed unable to speak. A loud sob choked him and he curled up again, hiding his face.

Justin knitted his eyebrows, worried. “Clay?” He paused waiting for a response which he didn’t get. “You wanna some water?” 

Instead of response, he heard a quiet mumble, “Ani. She leaves town.” Then, before he realized, Clay fell to the floor and pressed his face against his chest, weeping loudly. Justin wrapped his arms around him and started to cradle him, trying to calm him down.

Justin felt helpless. Clay didn’t want to talk about it.

Nether that night, nor any other. He couldn’t do anything to make it better. Every other day it was just worse. An aching void growing in Justin’s heart was becoming more and more unbearable. 

One day, even though he was completely clean for over a month, he just opened the drawer and took Methadon again. After all, it was still an opioid. Weaker than oxy or heroin, but still a drug.

Feeling his head light, a gentle spinning, a nice feeling of nothingness, no pain, no worry, he felt good again. 

That moment he realized he wasn't free. He knew it was only a matter of time before he space out again.

* * *

The door squeaked. A dark shape stood in the doorway again, his hands empty this time. He reached out and made a click. The room instantly flooded with feeble, mellow light. 

He blinked, adjusting his vision and peered around the room, cursorily. The walls and floor were rough and concrete. The room seemed narrow and empty. The bulb producing dim light hang above the door. Then he locked his eyes on the man.

To his surprise, it was a woman that stood before him. Quite tall, slim but muscular, dressed up in a black hoodie and camouflage combat trousers. She had a neutral face when she ran her eyes up and down him. 

He was still in the same position, sitting beside the half-empty bottle of water and the bowl of grayish pulp. The floor was stained with gray and red puddle. 

He nearly started to beg her to let him out, but he knew it was pointless. Fearing it would make her angry and violent, he remained silent.

“Not hungry?” she asked. Her voice was low, as masculine as her silhouette.

He hesitated and cleared his throat, staring into the bowl. “No, I–,” he started hoarsely and grunted. It was weird for him to hear his voice again, even though it sounded unfamiliar.

“I get it.” She paused and frowned, examining his arm hanging limply and battered face. Her eyes stopped at the livid bump, located where his left eye should be. "You've pissed the boss." 

“That’s why you keep me here?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders. “He wanted you dead, that's all. But there’s a change of plans.”

“What’s the new plan?” he rasped, unsure whether he wanted to hear the response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you curious who's held captive? And what's the dreadful plan?  
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos <3


	3. Lies and Untruths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopelessness. Christmas. Lies. Good intentions. Trouble.

It was foolish for him to expect an answer, he knew that.

Seth didn’t want him dead. No more. _Hell, dying would be so nice right now._

Seth wanted something else. An easy conclusion was that 'the plan' meant something worse than dying. The woman wasn’t going to tell him because he's not supposed to know. Thinking about it should torment him. He knew that. 

So, as expected, she grabbed the bowl in silence and headed to the exit.

„Please.” He didn't expect her to stop, but she did, to his surprise. His mind went blank and he had no idea what to say. Should he beg for his life? Beg her to kill him? Release him? Answer him? Talk to him? Tell him what the hell is going on? 

Before he made up his mind, she put a bowl behind the door and approached him again, holding a piece of cloth in her hand. _A gag? A blindfold?_

He backed away, looking at her in horror. “Wait!” Her face was emotionless, slightly bored. 

„I'll fix your shoulder. You won’t feel it.”

He didn't manage to protest. He saw a fist rising up, coming into his direction, and then he blacked out.

* * *

First Christmas with Jensens seemed surreal for Justin. Looking at Matt bustling in the kitchen and Lainie hanging stockings on the fireplace, he couldn't really believe it wasn't a dream. A perfect family. A clean, nicely decorated house. Christmas tree with branches bent from the weight of ornaments. 

A year ago he had slept on the streets. Now he had his own bed. Home. Family Christmas.

It wasn’t a dream. It was real. Genuine. Authentic.

The Christmas at Bryce's didn't seem that way. His parents were uptight. They had servants for decorating the house, preparing meals and setting the table. But he still loved it. It was still a lot better than spending this day with his mom and some random step-douche. 

They sometimes had a Christmas tree at home. Sometimes Amber cooked something, too. Sometimes. It wasn’t always bad, but while the good memories tend to fade away, the bad ones remain. He wanted to believe that she did what she could, but in fact, Christmas time was always a nightmare to him. Especially when he was a kid. Especially when he lay in bed and prayed that his mom and her boyfriend got stoned to death, only to avoid the night visit of the latter. Especially when his hand...

A poke sobered him up. „You're asleep or what?” He flinched and looked up. Clay stood in front of him, holding a cloth in his hands. „Help me wipe the dust.”

Justin grabbed the cloth and started to wipe a shelf nearby without making a word. His mind was still absent and Lainie noticed it.

„You're very quiet today, Justin, is everything okay?”

„Yeah, Mrs. Jensen, everything's fine,” he responded automatically, trying to sound cheerfully. His voice, however, was rather dull. He kept wiping, when the silence made him realize that Clay and Lainie stopped what they were doing and looked at him inquisitively. No wonder they peered at him - he wiped the same spot continuously and stared unseeingly at it. 

Justin felt uncomfortable, surrounded. _They think I'm high? Do they know?_ , he thought, cursing himself for the pills he took in the morning.

Matt grunted and waved at him. „Leave it, a bit of dust hasn't harmed anyone yet. Human casualties may occur if I don't prepare the dinner, so you’d better come and help me.”

He was grateful for a chance to escape. „Okay, Mr. Jensen.” Tossing the cloth to Clay, he marched into the kitchen. „What do you want me to do?”

„Peel the potatoes, will you? I’ll roast them with garlic and thyme. It’s our Christmas tradition here.”

Justin grabbed the peeler and got to work. „Should I cut them in half or something?”

Matt approached him, but ignored his question and said out of nowhere, „Listen, kiddo, if you want to talk about something, anything, you know I'm here for you, right?”

Perplexed, Justin nodded without looking up. „Yeah, I know.” _Does he know? Clay has found something? Told him?_ He tried to focus on potatoes.

„This must be difficult for you,” Matt continued.

_Why do I have to make everything so complicated?_

„You spent the last Christmas with...Bryce?”

„Oh.” Justin sighed with relief. _He doesn't want to talk about drugs, so he probably doesn't know._ „No, I was...not at Bryce’s.”

“You spent it with you mom?”, Matt pushed on.

Justin didn’t answer. His last Christmas was bad, but not the worst. He was high anyway. Heroin effectively killed loneliness. He didn’t want to talk about it during his first Christmas with a new family. He turned his head around and peered around through the kitchen half-wall. „It all...brings back memories.” 

Matt put his hand gently on his shoulder. „I can't even imagine how you must feel.” His voice was soft and caring. _He would understand_ , Justin thought, but he immediately reprimanded himself. _Don't make another holiday complicated._

„Do you miss her?”

Silence. Justin went back to peeling potatoes, nervously, clumsily.

„You don't wanna talk about it?” Matt went on. 

Justin was quite surprised with his determination. Usually he didn't push him to talk. He only did that to Clay. A pleasant thought ran through his mind - he's treating him the same as his own son. He sighed. „From time to time. But not at Christmas. It wasn't really _merry_ with her,” he finally responded, bitterly. It was a half-truth. He bloody missed her, even today. Never did he stop loving her. Despite _everything_.

Matt silently nodded and grabbed the bowl with potatoes. „That would be enough. I'll cut them, go set the table, we have only an hour.”

He put down the peeler and looked up at Matt. His face expressed a lot of emotions. Concern, compassion, love. Justin looked him in the eye and felt a surge of guilt that he missed his mother. He shouldn't. It was her fault. Everything was her fault. Why couldn't he had a normal father before? 

He was his son. For real. On paper. He finally had a father, a real _dad_. And not thanks to his mom. He smiled. „Okay, dad.” 

He took a step toward the living room, but Matt pulled him up in a hug. Justin patted him on the back, slightly embarrassed, but happy.

He had a dad.

* * *

Blinded by the street light, he couldn't see who was standing over him. A dark silhouette held something in his hand. Something long and narrow.

He could feel a burning pain in his lower leg, a warm blood on his skin and a pounding heart. A feeling of panic grew in him as he tried to get back on his feet and failed. 

„What do you want?” he heard his own muffled voice and rapid breathing. He didn't get an answer. Another blow reached his jaw and knocked him down. A loud moan escaped his mouth and he curled up, covering his head with trembling hands. Blood ran down his face and he felt the taste of iron in his mouth. „Okay, stop, stop!”, he screamed frantically. The assaulter ignored him and aimed the kick at his uncovered stomach. It left him breathless, but he managed to grab the man's feet and he pulled it with his all strength.

***

He woke up with a tremendous headache and a throbbing pain in his shoulder, more intense than before. _Was it a dream or a memory?_ , he wondered, as he slowly sat down, hissing in pain. He was surprised to see the light on and to have an arm in a sling. He peered around with his one working eye, trying to ignore the pain.

The room was oblong and small, if he wasn't wounded he could have waited for the door to open up and jump through it in three leaps, he could have tried to escape. But he knew if he had tried it, he would have fallen painfully to the ground, as his body had already failed to cooperate with him.

No windows, no other doors. There was nothing on the floor except for a bottle of water and dark spots scattered on the concrete floor. He guessed it was his blood. Or vomits. It smelled awful and he felt nauseous again. Swallowing the saliva, he tried to resist it.

After a minute, he looked down at his shirt. It was all dirty with mud and smudged blood. His right arm hang limply in a makeshift sling. He raised his other hand and turned it back and forth, examining the dark scab on his wrist and bruises on the forearm. Dried blood caused itching, but he ignored it. Scratching would be painful. 

His jeans were also covered with mud and blood at the knee height. He could move his leg, but it still hurt badly. At least it wasn’t broken.

Fearfully and slowly, he lifted up his shirt. No wonder his ribs were broken; the colors on his abdomen ranged from red, blue and purple to black. His head was spinning from dread. He took a deep breath to calm himself but the sharp, stabbing chest pain made him regret that. 

Groaning in pain, he crawled to the bottle and took a small sip. Even that was painful, as his lips were chapped and wounded. The water didn’t rinse away the persistent taste of blood and bile. Putting down the bottle, he sighed in resignation. 

He felt tears streaming down his face. For the first time here, he didn't cry in pain; he wept for himself. 

He had no hope that he would ever leave this place. He had no hope that he would ever see any familiar, friendly face. He had no idea what to do. He had no idea how he could get out of here. There was no chance of escape. There was no chance that this sociopath would release him.

Maybe someone would come for him? But who? How would anyone know where he was?

He curled up cautiously on his side, placing his free hand under his cheek. A violent sob went through his body. Unable to fight, unable to resist, he felt more hopeless than ever.

He didn’t expect that he was so easy to break. 

* * *

Justin felt like dying.

He could see Clay’s mouth moving, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Two blue eyes. A concerned, soft look. 

A hand touched Justin’s forehead, covering his eyes. The hand was trembling. It moved away and he traced it – a smooth palm, lean forearm, a tattoo. He could feel his face frowning. It was _his_ arm. 

He raised his head again. Clay’s lips were slightly parted, but not moving anymore. A buzzing in his ears filled him from head to the toes, as if nothing was more real than that. He took a deep breath.

“What do you mean ‘you told her’,” he wanted to say. He could felt his lips moving, so maybe he said that. A confused look on Clay’s face confirmed that it was, indeed, said aloud.

The buzzing suddenly silenced. “Were you even listening to me? I only asked if she could check up Seth. I didn’t tell her about the-other-thing.”

The tension inside of him subsided, and he felt as if a giant stone was taken off his chest.

„Are you alright?” Clay continued. He must’ve seen that there was something off with him.

Justin shook off and impatiently asked, „And? He’s out?”

Clay sighed. „I've just told you, are you sure you’re feeling alright?” he asked again and came closer, gazing directly into Justin’s eyes. Then he grabbed him by his chin and turned his head left and right. Justin backed away, pushing his hand away.

„Yes, now, would you tell me or what?”

“Did you take something?” Clay asked suspiciously, causing Justin to snort with frustration. 

“Seriously?”

„Whatever. Seth's still in jail.” He paused and continued to carefully study Justin’s face. „But he’ll be out next month.”

Justin felt a lump in his throat, his pulse fastened. _Why I’m so panicked?_

He took a deep breath. Without thinking twice, he went to the anteroom and started to put the shoes on. Clay followed him and folded his arms, suspicious.

„Where are you going?”

„To Monet’s.”

„Right now?”

„My shift starts in half an hour, I gotta go.”

Clay grabbed firmly his forearm, stopping him in the doorway. „Care to comment?”

„Nope,” he gasped and violently broke free of his grasp, leaving Clay disturbed and startled.

***

Every time he looked at her, he instantly felt at peace. Despite all that happened, peace. He was not able to erase the memories, to stop thinking about what she did. But so did she. They were broken, both of them. Connected and divided by Bryce. 

Jess was the only good thing that happened to him. Their relationship felt like the only thing that he managed to build; he surely destroyed it, more than once, but they rebuilt it, which gave him hope that not everything is unrepairable. 

So when Jess entered the Monet’s and smiled at him, the wave of calmness descended upon him and he embraced her tightly, hiding his face in her hazel curls. Sweet, rosy scent of her perfume filled his nostrils as he sighed heavily. 

Jess didn’t have to ask to know what he needed. She placed one hand on his hair, the second on his back, stroking him gently. Their lips locked in a tender kiss and then they stood for a while, with eyes fixed on each other. Then he pulled Jessica to the table and they both sat down, holding hands. Not knowing how to start, he just blurted, “I’m a fuckup.”

“Hold on, what happened?” Before Justin had a chance to speak, Jess continued, “And why you weren’t answering your goddamn phone? I was worried.”

“I’m sorry.” Justin lowered his head in a gesture of remorse.“I’m so full of shit.”

“Because?” Jess she lifted her eyebrow, looking at his face.

He avoided her sight, repentant. “Because I’m imagining things now to justify using.”

Jess sighed and placed a hand on his cheek, making him look up at her. His eyes were watery and his brows furrowed.

“What did you see?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Justin moved his face away from her hand and wrapped his arms around himself.

Jess didn't give up. “It does!”

“No, you’re missing the point, Jess–”

" _Y_ _ou’re_ missing the point, just tell me,” she cut him off. 

Justin sighed, looking away. “Seth.”

“But he’s in jail?” she asked, frowning.

He nodded his head, still keeping his head down. “Yeah, Clay even asked his mom to check it up.” He rubbed his neck nervously, waiting for her to say anything, but Jess only tilted her head, lost in thoughts. They sat in silence for a long moment.

“I wouldn't expect that he would disturb you so much," she whispered, patting his thigh. "But he's a monster and he hurt you and your mom. A lot. I get it. Don’t torment yourself, please.”

“I was clean for two weeks,” he complained quietly and hid his face into his palms. Jess embraced him and he surrendered, hugging her around her waist.

“You were doing great, Justin. And you will, again. But why it triggered you so much? Are you scared of him?”

Justin didn't answer, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes as Jess put a hand on his head and stroked his hair.

“Bryce...paid him off, didn’t he?” It felt weird to speak his name out loud.

“Yeah. But I did something stupid later.” She moved a hand to his back, waiting for him to continue. “I wanted to give Clay an alibi. To say he was with me. And I went to Seth.”

Jess suddenly stiffened, with eyes wide open. “Why on earth would you do that?”

Justin straightened up and fixed his eyes on his palms, which he nervously rubbed. “To get rid of that guy I bought from after the Homecoming game.”

This statement left Jessica startled. “Get rid of him? Like– what the fuck? How?”

Justin took a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders. 

“In exchange for what?”

“Dealing.”

“Fuck.” She shook her head in disbelief and looked away. “But you didn’t, did you?”

“No.” He put a hand on her knee in a gesture of assurance. He finally managed to look her in the eye. “The police pulled him in. Some detectives had been tailing me that evening and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be in jail for breaking a parole if it wasn't for me.”

“Tailing you? Because of...Clay?” _Because of me,_ he knew she thought, as she paused with an apologetic expression on her face. “You don’t know that for sure.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, that’s the problem.”

***

Clay was moving the fork in his plate absentmindedly, cursing Justin for leaving him alone for ‘weekly family dinner’ thing. Usually his babbling about baseball or funny work stories saved him from their parent’s questions. That night he was on his own. 

He didn’t feel like talking and he was still upset about their conversation, so he wanted to get away from the table as possible. Without rising any suspicion. It would be difficult without eating anything, but he had no appetite.

“It’s some kind of extra-shift, or what?” his dad asked. “It’s unusual for him to work this late on Sundays.”

“I don’t know, I just got a text that he won’t be home for dinner, and that he’s going to meet Jessica afterwards.”

“Isn’t it too late for that?”

Lainie shrugged her shoulders. “He’s doing so well, we should let him have some space. To be a normal teenager.”

 _Yeah, he’s doing really great,_ Clay thought sourly without taking his eyes off the plate.

They both noticed that he wasn’t eating.

“Are you feeling alright, Clay?” his mom asked, concerned.

 _Here it comes._ “I’m not hungry, I've eaten something before.”

“Before dinner?” Matt frowned. “Okay, so if you’re not hungry, maybe we’ll talk?”

“About?”

“About how you’re doing. Your mother and I didn’t want to push you, but maybe it’s time.”

“For what?”

Lainie placed a hand on his forearm, sighing. “I know you were close with Ani. Last couple of weeks must’ve been difficult for you. We’re glad you’re seeing Dr. Ellman.”

Clay raised his head, bulging his eyes. “How–”

“I get the visit reminders on my cellphone,” Lainie explained before he finished. “I’m not nosy, it was always this way, my number is still in their system.”

 _Fuck._ Clay put the fork away, still staring at the plate

Matt took a sip of wine and carefully examined his face in silence. Lainie continued, “You don’t have to tell us anything, anytime, but you’re having secrets again. And, apparently, depression, and that is–”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” Clay cut her off, making both of them stunned. Lainie opened her mouth to respond, but Matt made a gesture to stop her. 

“We won’t talk about it if you don’t want to. We’re just worried. And I don’t even know where you got the money for visits, but let us cover this, okay?”

Clay nodded in silence. Standing up, he folded his arms and sighed to gather his thoughts. 

He shouldn’t tell them that it was from Justin’s tips that he hid from them. Officially, Justin gave their parents his entire pay for deposit. He was taking anything only with their knowledge and consent, after careful interview. The information about side tips would get him in trouble.

“Okay, if you want to.” He headed towards the exit, but he stopped with a hand on the door handle. “I’ll be okay, don’t be too worried. I'm just having a bad day.”

"From two months," Matt blurted. He ignored it. As he was crossing the door sill, he heard his mom’s voice. “Does it have anything to do with what we discussed earlier?”

He stopped and held the door, thinking about the answer. Considering whether he should say anything. Finally he huffed, “Justin is pretty distressed. He blew me off and acted weird and I’m worried. Do you want to know anything else?”

Lainie and Matt exchanged apprehensive looks, but said nothing but a ‘goodnight’ to him. 

“Night.” 

As he closed the door, he heard the muffled voice of his mom. “I’ll call his manager and check whether he’s on the shift.”

“Fuck,” he said under his breath and took out his phone to text Jessica. He didn't expect to receive a response so quickly.

_“He isn’t home? He told me he’s coming back.”_

_“You met with him at work?”_

_“We met at Monet’s but it wasn’t his shift.”_

Cursing, he dialed Justin’s number. Once, twice, but he didn’t answer. He wrote him an angry text. Then he texted Jess. _“What time he left?”_

A confused emoji. _“He walked me home around 5pm. He’s not home? I’m worried.”_

Clay cursed again and did the math. It was three hours ago. Jessica’s house is only 15 minutes away. His phone vibrated again. 

_“FUCK, your mom is calling me, what should I do? He’s not picking up!”_

Gasping, he looked through the window and saw his parents walking around nervously.

 _“Tell them he’s with you,”_ he texted, pondering frantically. Then he sent another message. _“If she wants to talk to him, tell her he’s sleeping. I’ll go look for him.”_

***

Justin was surprised that Clay wasn’t in his bed, as he walked into the outhouse. He looked around, but Clay clearly wasn’t home. He checked the clock. 11PM.

“Weird,” he said to himself and took his phone out. He cursed seeing a dozens of missed calls. Clay, Jessica and Lainie. 

He had a problem.

First, he read the texts. He calmed down a little bit, finding out that Matt and Lainie were thinking that he was sleeping at Jess’s. He thanked her and apologized for worrying her.

The fact that Clay went looking for him made him upset. His brother would be angry, he knew that. They would probably fight again, and he would gladly avoid it. That day was already way too distressing.

He called him, but only the voicemail responded. Frowning, he texted him and called him again, unsuccessfully again. He thought that his phone must’ve went dead. 

He wasn’t sure whether he should stay in home and wait for Clay, or go out and look for him. Leaving the house again didn’t seem as a great idea, but the fact that someone was out there, looking for him, while he was sitting on his own bed, made him feel oddly.

Finally he decided that it’d be best to stay put, convincing himself that, sooner or later, Clay would be back. 

Sleep came quickly and when the alarm clock went off, he felt as if he had just went to bed. He felt even more tired than in the evening. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he looked at Clay's bed.

It was still made up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this one! Thanks for all kudos and comments, I appreciate each and every response. Let me know what do you think about the story!


	4. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay looks for Justin. Justin looks for Clay.

Clay had no idea where to start. 

He had hesitated for a minute whether it was a good idea to take the car, but he figured that otherwise there was no chance to find Justin. Hoping that mom and dad wouldn’t notice that Prius was missing, he slowly took off, trying not to make too much noise. Then he started driving vainly around the city. It didn't seem like a reasonable idea, but still better than chasing him on foot.

Only one place came to his head, but he tried not to think about it. He desperately wanted to believe that Justin was not there. But he had to check. Automatically, he turned towards the docks. He had to. After all, it was the first place that came to his head.

The images that his imagination brought forward were dreadful enough for him to have his heart in his throat, pounding heavier and heavier with each metre. Expecting the worst was imprinted in him, he couldn’t help it. 

Bluish skin. Bile coming out of purple mouth. Dead eyes. 

The images were vivid, horribly vivid. He had never seen Justin like that, but Alex did. Justin had overdosed once and could’ve died. On Clay's bed. If Alex hadn't come, Clay would have found Justin just like this. Pale, with a needle sticking out of his arm. Dead because of him. 

‘It was just like in the movies,’ he remembered Alex’s words. Clay regretted that he told him. From that day on, he could see this image in his head all the time. Each time he left Justin alone, he was afraid that he would find him like this.

He shuddered and checked the glove box for naloxone. His mom had put it there, as well as in dozens places in their house after the Thanksgiving, ‘just in case’. Without thinking twice, he slipped the bottle into his pocket, praying he would not have to use it.

Reaching the docks, he pulled over and jumped out of his car, peering around. He wasn’t sure where to go, so when he heard voices around the corner, he headed there. It didn’t seem wise, but he didn’t care. The only one he cared about was Justin. Along the way he checked the phone and sent him yet another angry message.

Behind the corner, there were three men. Or boys. Two of them were sitting on the ground, one was standing above them. They didn’t seem to notice him, and the last thing he wanted was to scare them with sneaking, so he cleared his throat. Two heads turned towards him.

“Sorry, I...I’m looking for someone.”

The standing one looked at him blankly without making any sound. The second one chuckled, hiding his face behind his hands. The last one didn’t react, staring lifelessly into the surface of water. _At least none of them is Justin_ , he consoled himself. He approached the boys and showed them a picture of Justin.

“Have you seen him here? Today?” he asked in a faltering voice.

Surprisingly, two of them looked at his phone. One shook his head, the other one pointed at the photo, enlightened.

“I know him!” Clay’s heart leapt. “Not seen him for a long time. Didn’t he kick the bucket?”

“Last time I checked, he didn’t,” Clay replied, relieved. It was definitely a good information that Justin didn’t hang out with this guy anymore. It was a bit disturbing that his question sounded as if he was shocked that Justin hadn't died yet.

Suddenly, he lost his balance and staggered, dazed with a searing pain in the head. He didn’t expect to be hit from behind. In fact, he didn’t expect to be hit at all. Before he knew, someone snatched the phone from his hand. It all happened so fast that he was unable to protest. Next thing he knew, he was standing all alone between a container and dark water, confused. Moaning in pain, he checked the back of his head. Blood.

Cursing and holding his head, he moved forward, looking for any trace of those boys, but they vanished. It was not surprising at all. He was sure he wouldn’t find them, even if he tried.

 _Justin,_ he reminded himself. _You have to find Justin._

He turned back, heading to the car. Still stunned, he walked slowly, trying to maintain his balance. As he reached Prius and took the keys from his pocket, he was actually grateful that they only took his phone before they ran away. Losing a phone is a minor problem. Having Prius stolen would be a major one.

He started the car and then it hit him. He had texted everyone except Charlie, and there was a chance that he was still on his shift, since Jessica wasn’t. He looked at the clock in the car. 9:10 PM.

_Fuck._

The shifts on Sunday evening usually ended at nine, he knew that. But he still decided to give it a try.

As the streets were empty, he reached the Crestmont in less than ten minutes. There was a chance that Charlie was still cleaning up, or that there was an evening screening. 

He left the car nearly in the middle of the street and stormed to the entrance. To his disappointment, the lights were dim and front door locked. He nearly gave up and turned around, when he noticed a shadow inside and knocked on the glass. He sighed with relief, seeing surprised Charlie coming to the door. A key turned in the lock.

“Clay? What are you–”

“Please tell me you’ve seen Justin.” He gasped, feeling the beads of sweat on his forehead.

Charlie looked perplexed. “Yeah, I...think I saw him earlier passing by.” He examined him up and down and his eyes widened as he saw blood on Clay’s hand. “God, you’re alright? What happened?”

“I don’t have the time, when was that?”

“Is it blood?”

“Just tell me where’s Justin.”

“Are you sure you–”

“Just tell me!” Clay huffed. Charlie’s face expressed a deep concern and he shouldn’t have been gruff, but the pulsating pain in his head made him angry and impatient. He’d regret that later, he knew that.

“What is going on, is he in trouble? Let me–”

Clay cut him off again. “Where, where did he go?”

The boy pointed him a direction in silence. “I think he went that way, it was like an hour ago,” he said quietly and added, lowering his head, “If something happened, if Justin needs help, I want to help.”

Clay sighed, impatient. “I just–, he was supposed to be home.”

Hearing a milder tone, Charlie looked at him again. “Maybe he just went for a walk?”

Clay rolled his eyes. “He was weird before. I need to find him before he gets in trouble.” He turned to leave, but Charlie stopped him, grabbing his forearm.

“Is your head okay? Maybe I’ll look at it,” he proposed.

“It’s nothing, I just slipped. I’ll be fine.”

Charlie let go of him and watched him as he returned to the car. Clay waved to him, relieved that he didn’t insist. He started the car, but hesitated. Again, he wasn’t sure where to go. Justin could’ve gone anywhere. Especially in an hour. Many places were in the direction indicated by Charlie.

Clay followed his first thought again. Eisenhower Park.

* * *

Seconds merged into minutes, minutes into hours, each immensely long. Unable to tell if it was day or night, he didn’t even try to count the time he spent there. It seemed as if he was there since forever. The life before that room seemed far away, as if it didn't belong to him. As if it was just a dream, a memory, a movie that got stuck in his head. 

It bothered him. He didn't know what to expect. Seth had a plan, a cruel plan to destroy him. Killing him wasn't enough. He tried, unsuccessfully, to get anything out of the woman who were bringing him food. But she didn’t say another word to him.

He went through all of it – panic, rage, fear, resignation. He ate, slept, stared at the ceiling and he knew he was losing his mind. The only thing he knew for sure was that the time actually passed. The wounds started to heal and the bruises started to change colors. His stomach was now greenish and yellowish. It takes about a week for bruises to be like that, he knew that. Although he felt like a lot more time had passed, he must’ve been there for a week.

The vegetative waiting startled him. The same with fixing his shoulder. It didn’t feel any better, but at least they gave him a sling. He couldn't understand why. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that they wanted his wounds to heal. 

Initially, he was creating endless scripts in his head, trying to guess. He combined facts, looking for motives. The most reasonable thing that came to his head was that Seth wanted him to get better and then beat the shit out of him again. It seemed plausible. When he woke up in there for the first time, he was two punches from death. And his death wasn’t something that would satisfy Seth. 

After endless hours of conflicting emotions, he mind finally became as numb as his body and he couldn’t think anymore. He didn’t wait anymore. He didn’t care.

The only thing he sticked to was his fantasy. He wanted to get out of there. Not to wake up in there. 

It seemed the only way to get out of there – not to wake up at all.

* * *

It was strange. Justin didn’t expect Clay not to come home for the night. He couldn’t come up with any reason why he wasn’t there, staring at his brother’s bed. Fear mixed with guilt and regret. Something bad could’ve happened. There was a chance that Clay was still wandering around the town looking for him, or that he stayed at Tony’s. Or someone hurt him. 

Or he hurt himself. 

_No, why would he do it?_

Trying to get it out of his mind, he promptly rolled out of bed. He checked his phone once again. Dozens of calls and texts. It seemed reasonable to silence his phone last night, but now he regretted that decision. He had to explain himself to all of his friends. It wasn't worth it. 

He sighed deeply and checked the last text from Clay. 9:00 PM. It wasn't nice, which worried Justin. A furious argument was the last thing he wanted. He didn't feel like fighting – the mere thought of it overwhelmed him.

He slipped on jeans and a crumpled T-shirt and rushed out of the house, barefoot. He checked the driveway. Prius was gone. 

He cursed and turned around to get back to the outhouse for his shoes, only to bump into Matt. Justin jumped and made a stifled shout.

“Whoa, you look as if you've seen a ghost,” Matt exclaimed and grabbed him by his shoulder, watching him closely. “You scared us last night, you know that?”

Justin tried to smile apologetically, but it was more like a grimace. “Sorry, I– I didn’t mean to.” His voice trembled. 

“Where’s your shoes?”

“I– I took them off.”

He panicked, seeing Matt’s confused look, but before he said anything, he felt a nudge.

“Don’t be so frightened! Come, let’s talk.”

Justin nodded, and looking around nervously, he followed Matt into the house. Lainie was just leaving, but she stopped in the doorway when she saw Justin. 

“Hey you, I thought you’ll go straight to school.” She didn’t seem angry, which made Justin relieved. “Come here.”

Slightly confused, he approached her. She gently patted his head, pulled him closer and kissed his cheek. “You’re in trouble, young man. I've gotta go right now, we’ll talk in the evening, okay?”

He nodded silently and closed the door behind her. Despite what she said, her gesture made him feel warm inside. He felt cared about. Loved. Safe. An overwhelming guilt swept over him. _Why do I always spoil everything?_

Matt invited him to the table and started pouring coffee for Justin. “Clay must've gone to school early this morning,” he explained. “When I got up, he was already gone. I figured you were looking for him.”

“Yeah, I–,” Justin stammered. “I thought maybe he would drop me to school.”

“I can do that,” Matt proposed, putting a cup in front of him. “I’ll just finish my coffee and we can go.”

Justin wanted to oppose, but he didn't want to strain the already tense situation. After all, he lied to him the day before. So he agreed.

As he could have expected, Matt used this opportunity to talk, as it was easier to tackle an inconvenient issue without maintaining eye contact. A car seemed a perfect space for that - at least to Matt. Justin felt more cornered than by their kitchen table. 

The minute they hit the road, Matt began. “You know kiddo, you could’ve just tell us the truth.”

Justin lowered his head. “Yeah, I know. I kinda made it all up on the spot, and then I just– I just nodded off and–”

He felt awful, lying again.

“Okay, okay, stop,” Matt cut him off. “If you want to sleep at your girlfriend’s, that’s fine. And if you want to have a break from Clay, that’s fine too. We’ve given you the benefit of the doubt so you’re not under house arrest. But lying about it, especially about your shifts…”

“I’m sorry,” Justin interrupted violently, which startled Matt. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

The car stopped at the traffic lights. “It’s just, we were afraid that…” Matt continued. 

Justin stopped listening, as he raised his head and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a red car turning into an alley. His heart started to beat faster. 

Without thinking twice, Justin opened the door. “I’m clean, Mr. Jensen. I’ve seen Zach, I'll catch up with him and go to school with him, okay?”

Before Matt managed to protest, he slammed the door behind and sped as fast as he could towards the alley. 

***

That playground evoked many memories and Clay felt a pit in his stomach entering the park. The haunting images flashed before his eyes. Hannah. Her first kiss. The photo. Her death. The tapes. _His tape._

Before he noticed Justin, he heard him. A loud weeping, sounding so grievous that Clay trembled. His first instinct was to approach him, but then he remembered their afternoon conversation and resigned. He wanted to fix everything, but he knew he couldn’t help with whatever Justin was going through. He knew that it wouldn’t have helped. Justin would’ve been embarrassed for being caught off guard. 

Heartbroken, Clay moved to hid behind the tree, careful not to make a noise. It struck him how different it was from what he had expected. Charlie was right. Justin went for a walk, needed to be alone, to blurt out the suppressed emotions. 

It was painful for Clay to realize that he didn’t trust Justin at all. Even if he had his reasons, it was still unfair. He remembered all the times that he spied on him. Stood outside the bathroom door, trying to figure out if he wasn't taking something. Checked his pockets, searched through his bag and lockers. Assessed the way he walked, talked or looked, trying to find any signs of him being drugged. Did it help anyone, anyhow?

It only left him paranoid. It had been weeks and Justin seemed to stick to their agreement, much more than Clay, who was avoiding taking his meds. Justin was honest. He admitted when and what he took. Clay realized he couldn’t be supportive and compassionate like Jess; he always implied that Justin lied, even when he seemed not to. Even though Justin struggled, he just occasionally took some pills, he wasn't a heavy heroin user anymore. Clay realized how irrational and crazy he’d been, expecting him to overdose.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he stood there and listened to Justin’s sobbing. Clenching his teeth and fists, he listened, wishing to take his pain away, even though he knew he couldn’t. The same as he couldn't decipher why he cried so uncontrollably. Was it because of Seth? Or because of Hannah? If so, why now? Why here?

Finally, there was silence. Clay heard a sniffle and footsteps, and peeked out from behind the tree.

Justin stood next to the rocket slide, crooked and shaky. He laid down, in the same place where he and Hannah kissed. Clay felt shivers again and turned around. He wasn’t sure if Justin took something or not. He wasn’t sure if he should leave him or not. Not sure if he’d regret that or not, he slowly went away, leaving his brother alone. He didn’t want to disturb him. Justin gave him the reasons, but he felt that it wasn’t fair. Justin had a bad day. He wanted to be alone. Clay felt that it was the right thing to do. 

Tears welled up in his eyes and he felt painfully alone. He was a fixer, but he couldn’t fix anything anymore. He couldn’t help. As much as he wanted, he couldn't even force Justin to talk to him anymore. 

Walking ahead, he went out of Eisenhower Park and headed onwards. He needed to clear his head. He was afraid that leaving Justin was a bad idea, but following him seemed just as wrong as approaching him. Given how defensive Justin sometimes was, it could’ve ended badly. He clearly didn't need any company.

But Clay did, which he realized when he found himself standing in front of Tony’s boxing gym. He knocked. The door opened.

“Can I crash with you tonight?”

* * *

It was late, but Matt couldn’t sleep. Careful not to wake up Lainie, he crawled out of the quilt and went downstairs. His mouth was all dry and the forehead was beaded with sweat. There was a weird feeling in his stomach that kept him awake. He felt that something wasn't right.

His intuition sometimes deceived him, but he had to check. With a glass of water in his hand, he went all over the house. Everything seemed normal. He looked out the window at the backyard. The windows in the outhouse were dark and it didn’t seem strange. After all, it was the middle of the night. 

Despite that, driven by his anxiety, Matt opened the door and went out to the backyard. He approached the outhouse and pressed the handle. The door wasn't locked. He peeked inside and felt his heart beating hard, narrowing his eyes to see if there was anyone inside. The beds seemed empty, so he turned the light on and came inside.

The beds were, indeed, empty. He looked around, but the boys definitely weren’t anywhere in there. Alarmed, he hurried back, making so much noise that he didn’t even have to climb the stairs. Lainie had already run down. 

“What’s going on, are the boys okay?” she asked, tying a bathrobe.

Matt rubbed his chin nervously. “They’re gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?”

“Not-in-their-beds gone,” he said irritated and took out the phone. “I’m calling Clay, you call Justin.”

Without any further words, Lainie followed her husband’s instructions. “It goes straight to voicemail,” she whispered, all pale and sweaty. 

“Clay’s too.”

Lainie shook her head in disbelief. “Maybe it’s overacting, but I’m calling Bill.”

Matt nodded his head without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all comments and kudos and take care of yourselves in these crazy times :< I hope that you and your loved ones are safe and healthy. Peace & love <3


	5. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain and madness.  
> Justin and Clay quarrel.

Every minute brought him closer to madness and he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t.

Craving death after escaping its clutches was odd, but he didn’t care. Desperate to get out, he'd rather die on his own terms, without suffering. He was sick of this agony.

The remnants of his sanity managed to analyze his options. They were smart, there was nothing he could use, in one way or another. Nothing that could hurt anyone. He considered drowning in the bucket of his own wastes, but it was emptied too often. He slapped his face repeatedly the moment he thought about it, trying to sober up.  _ You’re fucking crazy. _

It hadn't even been five minutes, and he was thinking about the same thing again. Staring into the bowl of food, he regretted not having a spoon, or a fork. He wasn’t sure he’d use it, but this fantasy was soothing and tempting. 

He wondered which place would be most effective. The artery in his neck? Thigh? He frowned at the thought of pain. Not the best idea.

_ Stop it,  _ he kept repeating to himself, fruitlessly. He felt selfish, thinking only about himself. Not thinking about the ones he would leave behind. Those who waited for him at home, fretfully biting lips until they bleed, powerlessly clenching their fists until they turned white. 

A week ago, he didn't expect to dream of death. A week ago, he didn’t feel egoistic. Things had changed. Everything had changed. 

The swelling on his wounded eye was slowly coming down and he was able to open it a little bit, even though the image was blurry. When he closed his healthy eye and looked through this small fissure, he felt like as if he was drunk. Observing the room from this perspective made him feel less bored. 

He lay down on his back and looked at the ceiling. It was raw concrete, rough and uneven. He knew by heart every hollow, every stain, the exact shape of shadow cast by a lonely light bulb hanging above the door. 

Too high for him to reach it. 

Closing his eyes, he could still see that shadow. It was unbearable, just like lying there sore, on a cold floor. He got used to the nasty smell that surrounded him. He hadn’t showered in days and his clothes were stiff from dirt, and he didn’t mind. But the pain, which had greatly diminished but still persisted, never ceased to be insufferable. Buzzing in the ears, dizziness and numbness hadn’t gone away. He still couldn’t stand up, being too weak and too sore. His shoulder hurt in literally every position. That cursed arm infuriated him the most. He couldn't move his right hand at all.

Suddenly, it came to him. He had nothing, nothing at all but the sling. The sling!

Hurriedly, he sat down, and without thinking twice, he reached his left arm up over his head. Struggling for a minute to untie the knot, he finally succeeded and the rag slipped off. The arm, no longer supported, fell down abruptly causing him to shriek in pain. Breathing heavily, he tried to calm himself down. 

_ Focus _ . 

With difficulty, he grabbed a sling in his hand and tried to wrap it around his neck, breathing heavily. The material kept moving, he couldn't narrow it. Cursing, he tried to tie it in a loop that he could later tighten with one hand. He failed again. In growing desperation, his hand started to shake, becoming increasingly powerless.

A helpless cry escaped his mouth and he threw the rag to the floor. He growled and picked it up again. He wasn’t sure it would work, but his mind was completely set on it.  _ It has to work. It has to. _

Feeling the tears running down his cheeks, he slipped the cloth into his mouth and bit it as hard as he could. He grabbed the other end in his hand and put it over his neck. And again, and again, tightening it as hard as he could. The pain in ribs took his breath away, but he didn't think about it anymore. He only had one goal.

When the rag was wrapped tightly, he pulled it, stronger and stronger, as firmly as he could with only one, weak hand. Not able to catch breath, his entire body started to shudder. The stabbing pain shot up his sides, but he kept pulling the sling, despite the pain and his twitching arm, and he screamed, soundlessly screamed until he blacked out. 

* * *

“Shit, it’s him.” Tony looked in the rear-view mirror and gave Clay a concerned look. “Now you  _ have to _ tell him.”

Clay nervously looked back and ahead. They had just pulled over and parked behind the Prius. He left it there the night before, right before he found Justin. There was a chance that he wouldn't notice the car, but the nearby park was hard to miss. Clay sighed deeply and wiped his face with his hand. He turned around again and tried to see the face of Justin, who approached hastily. 

“He’ll connect the dots, he’s not  _ that  _ dumb,” Tony cautioned. 

Unsure what to say, Clay just got out of the car. Despite the situation, the view of Justin walking towards him calmed him down. He was glad his brother was okay.

Two steps, four steps, and they were facing each other. 

Justin’s forehead was beaded with sweat. He looked miserable. His eyes were all puffy and red, his face was pale as a sheet and he looked as if he was about to burst into tears. He put his hands together in an apologizing gesture. “I’m so sorry, man, I fucked up, please don’t be mad at me.”

Clay pinched his lower lip and embraced him, sighing heavily. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Justin furrowed his brows hugged him back. “Me too, you scared me this morning.”

Realizing that, apparently, Justin came back home for the night, Clay regretted that he wasn’t there. For him. For himself. He didn't sleep much at night, worried and angry. After hearing what happened, Tony insisted that he should stay.

Clay moved away from his brother and stared at this shoes. “I, uh, I was looking for you, I lost my phone, I wanted to call you again so I went to Tony, but he didn’t want to let me out until, like, right now.”

Uneasy, Justin hid his hands in his pockets and swayed back and forth. “Shit, you lost your phone because of me? Where?”

“I’m not even sure,” Clay lied again and felt bad about it. The less Justin knew, the better. “Where the heck were you?”

“I, uh, I was with Jess, and then I went for a walk,” Justin explained, visibly abashed. “I silenced the phone, sorry. I–,” he paused suddenly. Clay raised his head and examined Justin’s face. His brows were furrowed. “Is it Prius?”

Perplexed, Clay opened his mouth and closed it right away, unsure what to say. He didn’t expect Justin to show up and had not idea what to say in order to prevent the storm.

Justin looked around the alley and his face frowned. “What the fuck is going on? Why are you here?”

Clay stood still, with his jaw lowered, unable to make a sound.

Justin ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his temple. He approached Clay and looked him right in the eye. Clay instantly lowered his head.

“You were there yesterday, didn’t you? You found me?”

Clay slowly nodded. He couldn’t say whether Justin was sad, angry or disappointed. Hesitantly, he raised his head and looked at him. He looked as if he was about to cry.

“Please, tell me what’s going on,” Clay pleaded.

Justin backed away and turned around, folding his arms. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Because I don’t wanna talk about it.” Justin took a deep breath and headed to Tony, who still sat in the Mustang. “You’re going to school?”

Tony looked at Clay and nodded.

“You wanna give me a ride?”

Clay waved his hand and huffed. “Seriously?”

***

Clay was surprised, finding him on his bed, lying on his back with head hanging down. Justin had avoided him all day, yet he went straight home after classes. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, sitting on the other bed.

In response, Justin only raised his eyebrows. 

“You’re not going to sulk forever, right?” Clay asked.

“It depends.”

Clay lay down and fixed his eyes on the doodle that Justin hung up on the ceiling weeks ago to cheer him up. A grinned dog in the burning house with a caption ‘ _ This is fine _ ’. 

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on you not asking stupid questions.”

“It’s not stupid.” Clay glowered at him. “You’re stupid.”

Justin laughed, making Clay roll his eyes. “What are you, five?”

“Come on, you can sulk all you want, but you’re acting weird, can you blame me for going crazy?” He stood up angrily and shouted, “I fucking care for you!” Then, breathing heavily, he sat down and repeated quietly, “I care for you.”

Justin rose up and sat cross-legged. Clenching his jaw he said, under his breath, “I care too, Clay.”

“So don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not. I just– I don’t wanna explain everything. I had a bad day, I felt bad. That’s it. It’s weird to think that you were there, you know.”

It was weird for Clay too, but he didn’t want to admit it. “Mom and dad didn’t go crazy only because Jess calmed them down. I had to go and look for you.”

“Okay, I get it.” Justin sighed. “But since you were there, why didn’t you come and kick my sorry ass? And why you didn’t come home?”

Clay shrugged his shoulders. “I thought I shouldn't bother you.”

“Bother me?” Justin chuckled.

“I thought you were doing...something different. And I felt bad that you didn’t. No– no, I didn’t mean that. I mean–”

Justin cut him off with a gesture. “Yeah, I get it, you thought I got high.”

Clay didn’t want to admit it, but he nodded. “I felt bad that you have to go away, that you’re embarrassed, or whatever. I felt helpless, so I went to Tony, and he told me to stay the night. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all?”

Justin made a fish face, trying to finish the conversation by making Clay laugh, but as always, it failed. He spread his arms to the sides. “What?”

“I’ll go crazy with you.” Clay threw a pillow at him. “Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Justin asked, catching it and squeezing. 

“Yesterday.”

Justin tilted his head and stabbed his fingers in the pillow. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Why did you go to the park?”

“I wanted to slide,” Justin said in a silly voice, grinning.

Clay threw another pillow. “You’re dumb.” 

Justin let it hit him in the face and fell on his back, as if the pillow knocked him down. “It’s shitty that Seth still fucks with my life. Even when he’s in jail.”

“It’s just your head, Justin.”

“Thanks, Jensen, that’s helpful,” he scoffed and got up, went to kitchen and opened the fridge. “Is there any leftovers of yesterday’s dinner?”

Clay didn’t respond. He lay down on his back, looking at his Justin’s drawing again.  _ Justin’s like that dog. Anytime something falls apart in his life, he pretends everything’s fine,  _ he thought. 

* * *

They sat in silence, waiting without making a move. It was paralyzing that they knew nothing. The boys’ beds were made and their phones were off. It was the middle of the night and they waited for a doorbell. 

They both sprang to their feet the moment it finally rang, opening the door with serious faces. 

“Thank god you’re here, Bill,” Lainie invited the guest in. “I’m really sorry for waking you up.”

The deputy walked in, taking off his hat. “I was on duty either way, no problem. You’re saying the boys are missing?” He approached the table and sat down. Lainie followed him, while Matt poured them some coffee.

“They always tell us where they’re going, especially for the night. They were here about nine, took some food and went to the outhouse,” Lainie explained. “Matt woke up and realized their beds were made. Normally we wouldn’t raise the alarm, but it’s...it’s a difficult time for both of them.”

“I see,” Bill Standall said, nodding his head. “Justin still has a drug problem?”

“Yes,” said Lainie, while at the same time, Matt huffed, “No.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. 

“He’s clean,” Matt explained, glaring at his wife. “But he has a history of running away. Last time he escaped to his mother, Amber Foley. Maybe he found her.”

“It’s too soon to say that he’s not an addict anymore,” Lainie rebuked him.

Matt shook his head in disbelief. “That’s our son you’re talking about!”

“I know, but that’s the fact.”

“Okay,” Bill cut them off, “Let’s just calm down, okay? It certainly won't help. What about Clay?”

Lainie sat silently, embarrassed. Matt’s face was red with anger, but he managed to answer calmly, “He’s going through depressive episode, but it seemed better recently.”

“Were either of them suicidal?” the deputy asked softly. They both went pale.

Lainie hid his face in her palms. “I have no idea.”

“I don’t think so,” Matt said. “In case of Clay, we only know about one situation last year, with gun, at Bryce’s.”

Bill nodded, as he perfectly remember the video from Walker’s security camera. “Do they have any enemies? Did they plan anything, or investigate anything?”

They both shook their heads.

“Is there anyone that could harm them?”

Matt shook his head again, but Lainie’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe Seth Massey, but he’s still incarcerated. He was with Justin’s mother and abused both of them.”

“Wasn’t he released?” Matt looked worried. 

Lainie checked the phone for the date. “He’ll be released only tomorrow.”

“You think it’s a coincidence?” Bill asked, furrowing his brows.

“He’s still behind the bars, so he couldn’t harm them,” Lainie reminded, “And the boys wouldn’t ran away because of him. At least not Clay.”

“Maybe Justin wanted to go, and Clay went with him?” Bill suggested.

Matt shook his head and said, “Their wardrobes are full, bags in place, the outhouse isn’t messy. If they wanted to disappear for a long time, I don’t think they would left without making a mess.”

Bill didn’t go on. Changing the subject, he asked, “Justin’s still with Jessica Davies? Have you tried calling her?”

Lainie nodded. “He’s not there.”

“Any other friends?”

“Tony’s not responding, and that’s all. We don’t have any more numbers,” Matt explained. 

Bill drank his entire coffee in one sip. “I’d start with checking them. I can’t file an official report yet, but I’ll look around and ask the guys to have them in mind. My Alex may ask around the school,” he promised. “One of you should stay home in case they came back. We’ll be in touch.”

Lainie and Matt exchanged looks. They made a decision without any words. They thanked Bill and walked him to the door. 

His visit left them more frightened than before.

“Where should I go?” Lainie asked her husband.

Matt sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead, “Maybe Bill’s right, maybe they’re at one of their friends? Maybe there’s a secret party, or something like that.”

Lainie shook her head. “Nothing is that simple with these two,” she said bitterly. “Maybe Tony knows something? He and Clay are still pretty close, I think.”

“He said he’s living at the gym with Caleb, try there.”

***

When she rang the bell and waited for the door to open, she prayed that Clay was inside. She had to wait for a while, but the door finally opened and Caleb's head leaned out.

“Mrs. Jensen?” he asked, surprised.

“Is Clay here?” Lainie’s heart was pattering like machine gun. She forgot to apologise for waking him up. She forgot to greet him. Manners weren’t important. She only cared about where her boys were and whether they were safe.

Caleb rubbed his sleepy face, nodding his head. “Yeah, he’s sleeping.”

Sighing deeply with relief, he grabbed herself by the chest. “You’re sure?”

Startled, Caleb opened the door wider. “Come in, if you wanna check.”

“And Justin?” she asked, entering.

He denied, which upset her. But she was still hopeful that Clay knew anything. 

Caleb disappeared, and after a while, Clay showed up, confused. “Mom?”

Lainie approached him and clutched him to her chest, making him even more confused.

He asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Why on earth you aren’t at home,” she bellowed angrily, making Clay even more perplexed. One thing he knew – she was agitated.

“I, uh. I’m taking these pills for a while now,” he started hesitantly, “And I feel weird after them at night, so I sometimes crash here, because Justin gets too worried.”

Lainie’s jaw dropped. She had no idea that Clay was on medications again. She had no idea that Clay didn’t sleep at home from time to time. Most of all, she had no idea about the last thing. “How weird? Why it worried Justin?”

Clay shrugged his shoulders, reluctant to talk about it. “Justin cares too much. He keeps staring at me at night when I can’t sleep.” His voice sounded weary, indifferently. “Why did you burst in here and wake me up?”

Astounded by his insolence, she got even angrier than before. “Are you seriously asking me this question? You should be in your own bed! You may be an adult, but as long as you live under our roof you have to inform us when you want to leave the house at night!”

Clay hunched, visibly embarrassed. “Sorry, mom, I didn't want it to sound like that. I’m just–, I didn’t expect you to come here at four in the morning. And I really don’t sleep much. What happened?”

Breathing deeply, Lainie closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. “Your dad realized that neither of you were in your beds, that’s what happened,” she hissed, much quieter. “Do you have any idea where Justin is?”

Her words clearly worried Clay. His lips started to twitch nervously and his face immediately turned pale. “He’s not home?” he whispered, clenching his fists. His reaction made Lainie anxious again.

“No, Clay,” she said seriously. “He’s not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you haven't got lost with the events on the timeline and you've enjoyed my story!  
> Thank you, once again, for all your kind comments and reactions. Stay healthy & safe. It will get better ❤️💛💚💙💜


	6. What Is And What Never Should Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jensens struggle to deal with Justin's disappearance.

„We should’ve sent him to rehab, like normal parents.”

„Lainie–”

„It’s our fault, we didn’t take it seriously.”

„Do you even hear yourself?!”

„The relapse rate is between forty to sixty percent, he surely–”

The sound of fist slamming on the kitchen table made them both jump. 

„Can you, please, stop?!” Clay covered his face with his hands and sighed. „Justin didn’t run away.”

Matt frowned. „You sound as if you knew more than you say.”

„I don’t.”

„There's something you're not telling us. We need to know,” Matt demanded.

Clay only shook his head, wordlessly.

„Can you be honest with us at least once in your life?!” Lainie snapped and jumped to her feet. Matt opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she cut him off with a gesture. „You found some pills once, it wasn’t only once, was it?”

Clay stared blankly at the floor, avoiding the answer. After the pause, he muttered, „Mom, he’s missing, we’ve gotta figure it out.”

„I  _ am _ trying to figure it out! If you boys didn't keep so many secrets, everything would be easier, and if you told us that Justin never stopped using, we could have tried to help him sooner!”

„What are you insinuating?” Matt huffed angrily. „Don’t you dare blaming it all on him!” 

Lainie gasped aloud. „I’m not–”

Matt cut her off. „Clay, leave us alone, please.”

Angrily, Clay pushed his chair away from the table, but he stopped when Lainie grabbed him by the hand. She said, „No, stay. I’m sorry, I got carried away.”

Matt rolled his eyes and shook his head disapprovingly. „Can we focus on the real issue here? That our son is not home?”

Lainie stood up and approached him with an apologetic expression. He folded his arms and stiffened.

„If anyone hurt him, it would mean he's on his own. The police won’t investigate his case if they conclude that there is no evidence of third party involvement,” she explained, even though they knew it. „I don’t want to believe it. I can’t.”

„It’s not about your feelings, Lainie,” Matt rebuked her. „He’s on his own, no matter where, we’ve got to help him. Even if he ran away and blacked out on heroin.”

„He didn’t run away,” Clay repeated. „It...it must be connected with Seth, or his mom, I’m telling you.”

„No one know where Amber is, and Seth is released tomorrow, how would he harm him from inside the prison?” Lainie asked, not really expecting an answer.

„Maybe Seth hired someone,” Clay suggested. „Justin wouldn’t run away.”

Matt rubbed his temple, visibly upset. „Why are you still repeating it? Why you’re so sure?” 

Clay shrugged his shoulders, „I just know.”

„This is not a good time for keeping secrets, son.”

Having taken a deep breath, Clay pursed his lips and tilted his head. It was obvious that he didn't want to say it, but he finally admitted, „I didn’t find out on Thanksgiving Day, it was earlier.”

Lainie opened her mouth, but Matt shushed her.

Clay continued hesitantly, „I found some oxy and he told me that he got it from Bryce. It helped him to...to reduce heroin.”

His voice trembled, the words seemed to stuck in his throat, but he swallowed hard and managed to went on. „Seth threatened to kill Justin for his debt, Bryce also helped him with that.”

Lainie covered her mouth with a shaky hand, speechless. Matt raised his head and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. „It sounds like a rational reason to escape,” he noticed quietly. 

Clay shook his head vigorously. „He also said that if you found out, you’d sent him away, or that he’d run away to save us the trouble.” He paused and looked at his parents. They both seemed moved. „But he  _ didn’t _ . He admitted to you that he’s addicted and yeah, he struggled with being clean, but not like that. He was done with heroin.” He went silent again for a minute. „He was scared shitless of Seth, I know that, but he wouldn’t leave me. He knew that without him, I–” Trying to choke back a sob, he gasped breathlessly. „Something bad happened, I’m telling you.”

A deadly silence fell over the room. Their heavy heartbeats seemed to echo and rumble in their ears. 

„What are we supposed to do?” Matt broke the quietness. „How are we supposed to find him?”

„Seth.” Clay looked at him, then at the tear-stained face of his mother. „He’ll lead us to Justin.”

* * *

„It was a shitty plan,” he heard a familiar, female voice. „It’s not that I’m an expert in this matter, but, well,  _ I am. _ ”

He opened his eyes. His throat and lungs burned. Confused, he swallowed hard and winced with pain. 

„Come on, it’s not possible to strangle yourself like that. You lose consciousness too soon and you loosen your grip.”

Blinking in surprise, he stared at the brown-haired girl sitting with her legs crossed beside him. „Hannah?” he croaked.

She smiled at him softly. „Don’t lose your hope.”

A short, bitter laugh escaped his mouth. „Shut up.”

Seeing her didn’t startle him. He knew he was going crazy. In fact, he was surprised that it took him a week to start hallucinating.

„You don’t want my company?”

„Not really, no.”

Her presence made him feel even worse. All the bad memories returned, stabbing him painfully in the heart. On the other hand, of all the people that could haunt him, Hannah seemed the most reasonable. And he knew he’d carry that guilt forever.

„We may sit in silence, if you prefer,” she suggested. 

He looked at her curly hair, blue eyes and pink lips. After all, it was nice to have her around. He slowly nodded.

„The sling should get back where it was, you know.”

That was a good idea, he thought. He struggled for a long time, but he finally managed to tie a provisional sling back on. By the time he’d finished, he was sore and exhausted. He slumped onto the ground and curled up, resigned. He had nothing left but to rely on the mercy of Seth. Staring at Hannah, he could only think about how much he’d wanted to join her. She was so lucky. Free. Peaceful.

***

A hand slapped his cheek and he heard a familiar, female voice. „Wake up, dipshit.”

He opened his eyes to see the woman in combat trousers standing above him, with the same dull look on her face as usual. He turned his face to the side, looking for Hannah. She was gone.

„Stand up, the boss wants to show you something,” the woman continued, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him to his feet.

He groaned. His legs, unable to bear weight, bent below him and he staggered. The firm grip kept him up and the woman pushed him forward, forcing him to walk. With greatest effort, he managed to take two steps, despite the soaring pain pulsating in his body. Then the woman released her hold and he collapsed in a heap, moaning pathetically. 

A kick in the back made him scream and curl up. 

„You think I'm gonna carry you?” she yelled and pulled him up, trying to force him to straighten up. Powerless, he went limp.

„I can't,” he rasped. 

Muffled steps echoed in the corridor.

„Why does it take so long?”

_ Seth. _

„He says he can’t walk,” she complained angrily. 

A loud chortle escaped Seth's mouth. „Just drag him.”

Indifferent to hoarse protests, she grabbed him tightly and lifted him. „Walk. And don't fuck around or I'll cut you.”

With great difficulty he reached the door, leaning on the woman's muscular forearm. A thousand thoughts were galloping in his mind. Fear filled every inch of his body. He tried to ask, but he was unable to even make a sound.

The corridor was slightly better lit. The walls looked as raw as in his cell. He noticed three other doors; they entered the first one. The woman pushed him and he fell to his knees at the doorstep. He tried to support himself with one arm, but it bent and he plummeted to the ground, hitting his temple. Moaning, he slowly rose, afraid of what he'd see.

The only light in the room came from the corridor. He focused on the shape before him, slightly lit, slightly hidden in shadow. A bed. Two legs hanged from it limply, and he involuntarily held his breath. The legs were slender, purple and pale. Female. Familiar.

„Say hello.” Seth pushed him forward and he fell hard on the floor again. He crawled forward hesitantly with awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. When he reached the bed, he was too afraid to look up. He knew right away. He didn’t have to check, but at the same time, he had to. He couldn’t believe it. He hoped it was just an awful dream and wanted to wait, to wake up. Nevertheless, he climbed up, as he couldn’t help himself.

Bulging his eyes, he extended his shaking hand to the woman’s face and anxiously poke a cold cheek, then he stroked it. A sob escaped his mouth.

„No, no, no, mom…”

* * *

The night was bright. Thousands of stars adorned the cloudless sky, a full moon shone over the yard where Clay lay down, gazing blankly. 

It was the third night. He didn’t sleep a wink since Justin went missing. Ruthless fatigue was unbearable, but he couldn’t. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw dreadful images that terrified him. 

The most unbearable thing was helplessness. He had no idea what to do. The police found no leads. No evidence. Seth was released. They couldn’t kept him in prison as his sentence was over and nothing tied him with Justin's disappearance.

Everyone was involved in the search, even Alex, despite his skepticism. They drove tirelessly, hang posters and asked around, but Justin sunk underground. No one saw him. No one knew anything. With each hour, Clay started to freak out more and more. 

At dusk, as he returned home, he lay down in yard and hadn't moved since then. He needed to clear his head to think, but nothing came to his mind. He ran out of ideas. He checked every place he came up with, including Seth’s stash, which he visited with Justin last autumn. Nothing. 

He didn't hear the approaching steps. When the silhouette appeared before him, he jumped.

„Whoa, I didn’t mean to scare you.” It was Charlie. As he spread his arms calmingly, Clay nodded, taking a deep breath, and sat on the ground.

„It’s okay.”

Charlie furrowed his brows. „Is it?” He sat beside Clay. „How you holding up?”

„Barely,” Clay murmured. He looked more pale than usual, the bags under his eyes revealed his tiredness. „Nothing?”

Charlie shook his head slowly with apologetic expression on his face. They sat in silence for a long minute. 

„Why you’re here?” Clay finally asked.

„I wanted to check up on you,” Charlie said and sympathetically winced. „And I can’t sleep, like you do.”

Clay didn’t respond. 

They sat in silence for what seemed to be an eternity. Everything was still. Nothing changed. It seemed overwhelming.

„Maybe you should go to bed, it'd be at least more comfy,” Charlie suggested softly.

„When I'm there, I only think about why I wasn't here. If I hadn't slept at Tony's, he wouldn't have left anywhere.”

„You're thinking about it here, too. You might as well come inside. Come on, it's cold. You'll freeze.”

Clay snorted. „You're right,” he admitted, but didn't stand up. Instead, he lay down again.

„Can I ask you something?” Charlie asked hesitantly. Staring at the sky, Clay only nodded. „Why you weren’t here? I mean– no, forget it, I shouldn't have asked–”

„It's fine,” Clay calmed him down and paused for a minute. „Justin made me take my pills regularly. Insomnia is the side effect. It's not only now, it's chronic. And when I do fall asleep, I sometimes twitch, or have apnea. It was weirding him out. I figured it'd be better if he didn't see it.”

There was no surprise on Charlie’s face. The corners of his lips fell. He understood Clay’s sorrow. “You know, it’s not your fault. Whatever happened, it wasn’t you.”

Clay pushed his eyebrows together and shook his head miserably. He didn’t answer, gazing at the stars. He remembered that night at the Eisenhower Park, Justin’s wretched silhouette in the dark. The sound of his weeping. It echoed in his head mercilessly, as loud as if it was real. As if Justin was crying just over the fence. 

***

“It’s very sweet of you, Charlie,” Lainie said softly, bringing pancakes to the table. “I’m glad you kept Clay company. Did you sleep at all?”

“A little.” He paused. “Not much. Not at all.”

Lainie smiled sympathetically. “At times I forget about all this, and then it hits me again. This freezing feeling…” She looked at Matt, who raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. “Nevermind. Eat, boys.”

Clay sat stiffly, staring absently at the empty plate. Charlie looked questioningly at him, then at Lainie and Matt, who seemed not to notice it.

“You need to eat something,” he said to Clay, even though it seemed fruitless. “Come on, eat, or you’ll faint.”

Matt shook his head in resignation. “He’s adamant, he won’t.”

Suddenly, Charlie’s phone vibrated and he got it out, focused on the screen for a minute and then his jaw dropped slightly. 

„What?” Clay suddenly awakened.

Another vibration, Charlie read another text and covered his mouth with his hand.

„What?!” Clay shouted impatiently. Lainie put a hand hand on his forearm in a reassuring gesture.

„I–,” he paused for a minute, hesitantly. He rose his head and looking at everyone’s concerned faces, he gave up and sighed. „The police found something.”

The air escaped Clay’s lungs and he suddenly felt dizzy. Before he asked, Charlie continued. “Zach wasn’t sure if you should know, but Alex’s dad is probably going to tell you that anyway. Some woman reported hearing screams in the evening he disappeared. They found some blood on the lawn, they’re gonna test it.”

A muffled scream burst out of Lainie’s mouth. She jumped up from the table and left the kitchen. Matt’s eyes followed her, as he was wondering if he should come after her. Clay only closed his eyes and sighed deeply. It actually made him some way relieved, which made him felt guilty. 

“But it’s nothing certain, right?” Matt asked with a shaky voice.

Charlie shook his head. “That’s all Zach texted me. He knows it from Alex. The test takes up to 72 hours. Maybe they’ll manage to speed it up. Officially, the police wouldn’t tell you anything until the results.” He went silent for a minute and added under his breath, “I hope it’s not his.”

Clay opened his eyes and looked straight into him. „I hope it is.”

Both his dad and Charlie were startled. “How could you say that,” Matt protested, outraged. 

Charlie also opened his mouth to disapprove, but after a second thought he nodded. „Maybe you’re right, maybe it’ll lead them to him, or to whoever…” The words stuck in his throat. He preferred not to think about anyone hurting his friend.

Matt folded his arms. “It's better not to make any assumptions. We have to wait. It doesn’t really change anything. There’s no much that we can do except for what we’re doing right now.”

„Justin fought.” Clay paused, again staring absently at his plate. His voice was low and sounded as if he had a lump in his throat. „He fought, I’m sure. Maybe they’ll find Seth’s DNA, or any clues, whatever.”

Charlie was also on the verge of tears. „You’re right.” He sighed. „He’s okay, right? He must be.”

Clay didn’t respond.

* * *

If there was one thing he could have been sure of, it was that this image would torment him for the rest of his life. Justin stared into the dead, green eyes of his mother and sobbed uncontrollably, not minding the pain of ribs piercing his sides. His body seemed numb, distant, as if it wasn't his. The tears streaming down his face endlessly dropped on the floor.

„I'm not a vengeful guy,” Seth started, „but I needed to make sure you won't cause trouble. I'm a man of business, that's all. And you'll make it up to me, bring me the money I'd got if I weren't in a fucking jail.”

Justin's breath fastened and he started to hyperventilate. Seth's voice sounded surreal, as if he was underwater. Everything seemed distant. Everything except for the void growing inside of him.

Seth approached him, crouched down and grabbed him by the jaw, raising it up. „I've been thinking for a long time, and it finally hit me, Pretty Face.”

Justin froze, looking blankly into Seth's face, choking the sobs.

“I just wanted to kill you, but I came up with a better idea.” Seth smiled winningly. „You have no idea how much the guys would pay to fuck you, rough you up a bit.” The dismay on Justin's made him laugh crookedly. „I knew you’d like it.”

“See,” he continued, moving away from Justin, “you be nice and don’t do anything stupid, or your pretty girl will be next, or your nerdy roommate. I’ll make it look as an accident, like your poor mommy. Junkies will be junkies.”

Justin wanted to scream. He wanted to lift from his knees, run straight into Seth and bash his head into the concrete. Release the pain and anger that filled him. Use the remnants of his power to avenge his mother and to protect everyone from his evilness. But he couldn’t. He froze, unable to move, unable to make a sound. A voice stuck in his throat, words couldn’t connect into any sentence in the head. He even forgot how to breathe. The image before his eyes darkened, filled with black dots.

Seth, in the meantime, head out, stopping by the woman in combat trousers. He looked into her eyes and she nodded in response. She knew what to do. Then he disappeared behind the doors.

“Come, it’s time to wash.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited! The trailer of S4 is gripping, I hope it'll be a superb final season. A lot of angsty content, which I adore!  
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. I think everyone had already known who was captured by Seth, but I also hope that there was some intriguing uncertainty in this matter!  
> Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, as always, and stay safe & healthy <3


	7. The Unimaginable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay goes back to the day of Justin's disappearance.  
> He and Jess wait for the test results.  
> The nightmare continues.

“Clay.” The voice sounded distressed. The hands, clenched firmly on his shoulders, shook his sweaty body. He looked around, but saw no one. Nothing around him had changed; he was still in the woods, where he’d been wandering around for several hours. The voice seemed to echo, he couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. It seemed as if it was coming from above.

“Clay, wake up. Come on.” This time it was so loud that he jumped up. 

Looking back and forth in confusion, he asked hesitantly, “Who is it?”

“Open your goddamn eyes.”

He blinked, disoriented. Then he closed his eyelids tightly and suddenly he felt tremendous pressure on his chest, as if a stone was crushing him. The pressure inside his head increased and his ears were plugged as if he had been emerging from the underwater. With a sharp inhale, his eyes opened wide and he saw the terrified face of Justin.

“You were doing it again, man.”

Blinking hard, Clay looked around the room, trying to get back to reality. He was in his bed, sitting, and his brother was right beside him, clearly exhausted. 

Justin rested his forehead on his shoulder with a deep sigh. “I'll get a fucking heart attack one day, I swear.” He pulled his head back, went to the kitchenette and poured a glass of water. He took one sip and handed it over to Clay.

Still confused, Clay drank it slowly, watching as Justin returned to his bed. “I told you, just wear earplugs.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “And let you choke? No fucking way. I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.”

“I’m fine when I’m staying at Tony’s,” Clay murmured.

“And I’m not, I’m even more worried when you’re not here.”

“Yeah, you sleep like a baby.”

“No, I’m not,” Justin snorted with a frown. “Okay, you don't wake me up, but I can’t fall asleep for, like, hours.” He paused. “I feel better when I can keep an eye on you. And you should really change these pills, regardless of what Dr. Ellmann said.”

Clay sulked. “They're working, and you’re the one who told me to take them, mom.” Justin looked offended, so he softened his tone. “ _I_ feel better when you don’t fail school because of sleep deprivation.”

“At least I get to hear fancy words in the middle of the night,” Justin mumbled, yawning. He was exhausted, he struggled with his heavy eyelids not to fall, but managed to keep his eyes open. He was always doing that, which drove Clay crazy. Waiting for him to fall asleep.

It was a real feat to do it again after waking up like that, even harder under pressure. 

***

“Shit, shit, shit,” Justin repeated nervously, struggling with trousers. “Clay, get up, we’re late.”

“What?” Clay asked sleepily, squinting. “You’re kidding.”

Justin smirked. “You wish. You have like five seconds, then I’m taking the Prius and I go without you.”

Cursing under his breath, Clay jumped out of bed. Less than five minutes later they were on their way to school.

“Fuck,” Justin yelled at the biker riding in the middle of the street. “Overtake him, I’m gonna be late for Maths!”

“There’s no space, he’s riding zigzaggy,” Clay complained. “And I’m gonna be late, too. Since when you care?”

Justin snorted and bumped the car horn. “Robertson hates me, I’m telling you. He gives me extra homework for being late.” The biker ignored the hooter and didn’t even turn around, which made Justin even angrier. “Get outta here, fucker!”

Clay rolled his eyes and turned the car left. “Relax, we’ll go another way.” Justin went silent, but he was still sitting on the edge of his seat. “You really need a good night's sleep.”

Justin leaned back and looked at him narrowly through half-closed eyes. “Don’t go to Tony.”

“Come on, man,” Clay objected. “You _need_ to sleep. You’re on the edge, I just don’t want you to–”

“I haven’t took anything for, like, four weeks.”

“I know, just–”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Let’s just keep it that way, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

Panting furiously, Justin hang his head and hid his face in his hands. “You’re so right, I _am_ on the edge.”

Clay was tempted to say ‘I told you’, but he felt too sorry for him. Last month he promised himself not to be a burden for his brother, but his problems were still affecting Justin severely. Maybe it was even worse than before, because now Justin was not only exhausted mentally, but also physically.

“I know you’ve got my back, and I’m grateful for that. You just need to rest.”

Justin nodded and grinned. "Maybe I’ll invite Jess and we’ll ruffle your bed,” he said and suggestively moved his eyebrows up and down. The grimace on Clay’s face made him laugh uproariously. 

“I know you’re kidding,” Clay said, disgusted. “But still. And you wonder why I can’t sleep well in my own bed.”

Justin was still smiling. “All this time and you’re still squeamish! You've got to finally get laid.”

They were right beside the school. Rolling his eyes, Clay turned into the parking and turned off the engine.

“Who says I haven’t,” he blurted, and instantly regretted that.

Justin dropped his jaw and opened wide his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re shitting me.” Clay tried to keep a poker face, but he blushed. “No!” Justin tapped him on the chest, disbelievingly. “You did it with Ani and you haven’t told me?”

“I’m not talking about it with you,” Clay mumbled, embarrassed, and got off the car. Justin did the same and wanted to grill him about it, but Clay shushed him. “You still have like thirty seconds, I’d be running, if I were you.”

“Shit, you’re right!” he yelled and hurried towards the school. 

***

“Come on, man, you can’t ignore me all day!”

Clay was sitting on the bed and pretended to read a book, trying to avoid talking to Justin. Rolling his eyes, he finally closed it and straightened up stiffly. Justin was walking back and forth in excitement, tossing a tennis ball into the wall.

“Okay, we can talk, but can you please stop? It’s not a playground.”

Justin chuckled and leaned on the countertop. “Okay.”

“Why are you even this excited?”

“I honestly don’t remember the last time we talked about anything this normal,” Justin responded, shrugging his shoulders. Trying hard to keep a serious face, he added, “And you were like the last cherry boy in Liberty High.”

“You’re such a dork,” Clay huffed, but he was not really offended. It warmed his heart to see Justin so carefree and smiley. He didn’t feel like talking about Ani at all, but he had no choice since he let it slip.

“So, how was it? Please tell me it wasn’t in the Prius.”

“No, it was at the Bryce’s.”

“You're shitting me." With his jaw dropped, Justin raised his brows in disbelief. “You know what, spare me the details, I don’t think I can handle that.”

Clay smiled slightly, “It was...good, I gotta admit.”

Laughing, Justin approached him and bumped him lightly in the shoulder. “So you’re normal after all!” Clay looked at him questioningly. “I thought you might be, you know, asexual, or something.”

Clay frowned. “Even if so, what would be wrong about it?”

“Nothing, I’m just saying. Wasn’t it weird?”

“What?”

“Doing it there, with...her.”

Clay got what he meant. “I would be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about what she was doing with him in the same house. That’s why we...never did it again there.”

“Oh,” Justin responded, raising his eyebrows. “I know it’s a completely different story, but it’s still sorta weird for me to be in Jess’s bedroom.”

“And here we are, back to not-normal-conversations,” Clay noticed grimly. “I wonder when Bryce would stop following us wherever we go.”

“Considering what we did, I guess our only option is to, like, head to the east coast.” Justin rested his arms on his hips and yawned. “God, I’m really tired. I’m gonna take a nap, wake me up for dinner, okay?”

* * *

Waiting for the results was even more unbearable than it’d been to hopelessly drive the city for the last three days. Every minute went on forever as Clay and Jess sat at the Monet’s. Skipping classes seemed reasonable, as both of them were unable to think about anything else than the blood test, but the idle waiting was a real torture. After all, school kills time better than looking at the ceiling.

Bringing the fourth coffee to the table, Jessica broke the silence in which they sat for the last hour. “Do you think we should call Alex’s dad, or something?”

Clay shook his head in silence, staring absently at the window.

“I’ll call him,” she insisted, taking out her phone.

“Jess, I know you’re upset, but it’s no use.” His voice sounded resigned.

She sighed and folded her arms, digging her nails into the skin. “You’re right, they’d call.”

Silence fell between them again. After another ten minutes, Jess got up and extended her hand into his direction. “Let’s take a walk, or whatever, or we’ll go crazy.”

Reluctantly, Clay stood up and allowed her to drag him outside. They moved forward and she tucked her hand under his arm. She was so close that he could smell her perfume and it made him feel awkward, but her touch brought him relief at the same time. He hadn't realized how much he needed a human touch. It was soothing. 

They walked aimlessly, just kept on walking without making any sounds. None of them managed to stop thinking about Justin, but it was a little less depressing than sitting in the cafe, where it was usually him to brought them coffee.

It was late afternoon when Clay's phone rang. He nervously pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. 

“It’s my mom,” he said breathlessly to Jess, who went pale. 

“Pick it up!”

He pointed a trembling thumb at the screen and put the phone to his ear. He listened in silence for a long minute and hang up after saying “I’ll be there.”

Jess looked at him questioningly, nervously biting her thumb nail.

“They want to give us an update. They got the results,” he explained, staring absently at the pavement, as if he didn’t realize what he had just heard. His mind went blank. 

Jessica let out a shriek, muffled by a hand covering her mouth. Streams of tears started running down her face, melting her mascara, forming black trickles on her cheeks. Before he knew, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her wet cheek against him. Startled, he hugged her lightly, still confused. He felt her warm breath on his shoulder.

“He’s probably dead, isn’t he?” Deep sobs escaped her mouth. “He’s dead, oh my god, he’s gone.” She grabbed him tighter, shivering. 

“No,” he said firmly, fighting growing panic. Although his heart was pounding like a jackhammer in his chest, he tried not to show it. It was clear she was a mess and he had to support her. “They wouldn't drag us to the station if they found his…” He paused. It was better not to say it. 

Her weeping was getting more and more uncontrollable and she could barely catch her breath. Helpless, he regretted not having Justin around. He had no idea how to calm her down, while his brother would surely do it right away.

“We’re far from my car, let’s call Tony and he’ll give us a lift, okay?” he said, stroking her on the back. She only buried her face in his chest in response. 

Clay took out his phone and did as he said, still keeping Jessica in a hug. “Come on,” he said, gently leading her to the bench. She sat beside him and wiped her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, I totally freaked out,” she finally managed to say in a trembling voice. 

“It’s okay, although this ‘koala bear mode’, well, it was something new.” She smiled briefly, which he took as a good sign. “It’s not really a bear, a koala, uhm, it’s a marsupial, and they’re not really…”

“Clay,” she interrupted him, still smiling. “You gets nerdy when you're nervous. But, still. How can you be so calm?”

He fixed his eyes on the ground, still fighting the panic. “I’m really not.” Sighing, he raised his head and looked around. “I’m terribly scared. But maybe it’s a good news. Tony should be here any minute, and we’ll find out.”

Jess nodded. “You’re right, we can’t assume the worst.” Still trying to calm her breath, she added, “I can't stand it, if anything happened to him.”

***

Jessica was despondent that she had to stay in the waiting area with Tony, but it didn’t surprise her. She kept checking the clock and with each minute her panic was increasing. 

Seeing her foot tapping nervously and suspecting that she might burst into the room where the Jensens talked to the deputy, Tony put a hand on her arm. He was just about to say something, when the sound of the opening door caused them both to jump up from their chairs.

Clay went out and approached them, blinking excessively. It was clear that he was full of contradictory feelings. Most of all, he was confused. There were dark red blushes on his cheeks and his legs visibly quivered. He could barely stand on his feet.

“Uhm…” he tried to start, but the words stuck in his throat. Sitting down, he took a deep breath and scratched his head. “The blood is his.”

Jessica gasped, but managed to stay silent. She stared impatiently at Clay, waiting for next information. He inhaled deeply, trying to control the trembling of his voice.

“They didn’t find any other traces, like other DNA, fingerprints, or gunshot residue. So blood is the only thing they have. But with an evidence like that, they considered it as a possible battery or abduction, and either way, he’s considered a victim and the police would be more engaged in the search.”

Jess looked broken. Tears filled her eyes and she covered her mouth, trying not to burst into tears. She wanted to ask more, but she only managed to utter, “Where?”

Clay's expression was full of pain and he hesitated for a minute. “Redwood Road.”

The dizziness that suddenly came over her nearly caused her to collapse. Clay and Tony exchanged looks. They both knew that it was the worst possible information for her.

It was a few hundred meters from her house, which meant…

“He went to see me,” she whispered, and her entire body was shaking. “Oh God, it’s my–”

“It’s _not_ , don’t say that,” Tony said softly, patting her back while she started to cry again, bent in half on her chair. 

Clay, feeling that he was on the edge too, stood up and mumbled, “The police wants you to talk to all of you. For leads, or whatever.” 

He was just about to leave, when Tony stood up, leaving Jess curled on the chair alone, and called him. “Clay. We’ll go there, ask the people, search every inch of that goddamn road. He _will_ be found.”

His persistence changed the expression on Clay’s face. No longer did he look as if he was about to cry; the fright eased, and anger began to come to the fore. Nodding, he looked around. “I have to catch my mom and dad, but wait for me, I’m going with you.”

* * *

The nightmares were just a vague memory. He barely remembered how it had felt like when he’d been abused as a child. The horrible things that happened on the streets of Oakland were repressed with drugs. Ever since he was more or less clean, that life seemed distant. Surreal. Disowned. It remained in his mind only as those tiny thorns sticking in your head, like a memory of a terrifying dream which used to wake you up in the middle of the night. Or like a movie that frightened you as a child, but now it no longer makes you scream at night. Because you know that it doesn't concern you anymore. 

He’d been abused before. He’d been touched. His body had been invaded, he’d sold himself for drugs, but it didn’t concern him anymore. It was the past.

That’s why it was harder this time. It was much, much harder. His mind was playing tricks on him, his body refused to cooperate. The pain made him so infirm that he couldn't even cry. And in addition, he couldn't even shoot up. He couldn't relieve his suffering even for a moment.

As he lay on the cold concrete, being too sore and disgusted to climb the bed, he stared blankly at the wall. He only wondered how much time he had left before the next one. He knew it wouldn’t be the only one. It was a matter of time before the next ones came.

But that was the first one. He knew that the first ones are the worst. Hurts the most.

The pain stabbed his sides painfully and he tried not to think if the man broke more of his ribs. They hurt a lot more than before, pierced his insides with every breath.

“Maybe they’ll puncture your lungs, make them collapse and you’ll suffocate,” he heard a grim voice of Clay coming from the corner of his cell. “But it's probably a painful death.”

 _Probably better than being here,_ he only thought bitterly, on the verge of fainting. He was barely managing to keep his eyes open and it reminded him the nights at home, when he was watching over his brother at night. It caused a sudden surge of sadness as he started to wonder how was Clay holding up. He must’ve been devastated. _Or maybe he thinks that I ran away?_

“You don’t really have to worry about me,” Clay’s voice continued. “I probably won't kill myself when you die in this basement. But only probably.”

Justin groaned, exhausted. “Stop tormenting me,” he slurred, “go away.”

Clay approached him and kneeled beside him. “I want to help.”

“How,” Justin snorted, which was followed by a moan of pain. Every sudden movement and sound he made caused a new wave of pain.

“Get on this bed and sleep. Don’t give up. I’ll come for you.”

It didn’t make him any less hopeless, but he obediently started to climb up. Resting his face on the mattress, he looked at the clump of his hair on the bedsheet and the stains which had already dry out.

Suddenly, he could feel the fingers pulling his hair out again, the hand pressing his face into the mattress, sweaty body crushing him, making him unable to move. Gasping for air, he slid back to the floor. 

“I can’t,” he mumbled, breathing heavily. He curled up and buried his face in his hands. He felt humiliated, defeated and broken. There was a ringing in his ears again and dizziness in his head. The stomach started to churn and he felt nauseous. His mouth went dry and the heart was racing in his chest. 

“Just breathe,” he heard Clay’s voice again, “it’s a panic attack. You have to breathe. Come on, breathe.”

Justin tried to inhale, but his throat closed in. He felt like a fish out of water, opening his mouth wide to breathe, to no avail.

“It will pass. I promise you, Justin. It will. You have to think about something else. Think about me. About something nice.”

Trembling, he looked straight at Clay, who was sitting beside him. He seemed so real that it was hard to believe he wasn’t. There was a concern in his eyes, but his face was peaceful. If he was real, he wouldn’t be calm, Justin knew it. He’d be freaking out, and it would be him to alleviate his fears. It’d be Clay to have a panic attack, not him.

Justin’s body slowly started to relax, as he redirected his focus away from that room. Still restless and breathing deeply, he extended his hand in Clay’s direction.

“I'll do anything for you. I’ll do anything to protect you,” he said painfully with a frown.

Clay nodded, “I know. I know it’s Seth. I’ll get him.”

It only made Justin more uneasy. “Don’t do it, don’t do anything stupid trying to save me.”

Clay shrugged his shoulders. “You know I will. Do you honestly think I’d sit still?”

Justin knew he wouldn’t. It cheered him up a bit, as he realized that probably Clay, and Jess, and Charlie, and Zach, and everyone else cared for him, looked for him. 

He was afraid for them, but he was comforted. He wasn’t alone, not anymore. It wasn’t like when he was five years old. It wasn’t like on the streets. Even though he was on his own in there, he really wasn’t. Maybe they'd found out where he was. Maybe they'd found him. Maybe the police would came and arrest them. Or kill them all.

The door opened abruptly with a loud creak, pulling him out of his thoughts. He didn't turn around, knowing who had come.

The next one.

* * *

“So you’re saying that Justin took a nap, you ate dinner together and that’s all? Then you left?”, Sheriff Diaz asked, peering cautiously at Clay. 

He nodded, having nothing more to add.

“There weren’t any phone calls, or messages of any kind on that day, or on previous ones?”

“Not that I know of. But he was clearly afraid of Seth, I’m telling you.”

“Okay, kid,” Sheriff sighed, “but you have no evidence of any communication or interactions between the two.”

Clay shook his head helplessly and looked at him pleadingly. “Find him, please, he’s the one who did it!”

Deputy Standall ignored him. “Do you think you could describe the biker?”

“It has nothing to do–”

“Clay, I understand that you have your suspect, but it's unlikely Seth Massey did anything sitting behind the bars. We examine all the clues, but he’d been already interrogated. There were no record of any phone calls of Mr. Massey on his last days in prison. No evidence, no threats.”

Angrily, Clay stood up and hit the table. “Fine, if you don’t find him, I’ll do it myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the positive signals. I appreciate it :)


	8. Paralyzed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay continues his investigation.

“I can’t believe they’re doing nothing,” Zach said to Charlie, walking slowly with his eyes fixed on the ground. They volunteered to search the area where Justin’s blood was found, along with the rest. As soon as the dawn came, they divided the street into zones and started to search the area in pairs. The street was almost a mile long, and including the roadside and surrounding lawns, they knew it would take them all day. 

It was the fourth day since Justin had vanished.

“They’ve already did a grid search. And they even brought tracking dogs,” Charlie noticed, but he knew it wouldn’t make Zach any less disappointed. The police didn’t find anything but the blood, and the dogs led the investigators back to the Jensens’ house. That was it. 

Zach winced. “They should keep looking!”

“They’re looking for suspects now, I guess.”

The silence fell between them. Charlie tried to reassure Zach, but the truth was that he was equally as frustrated as him that the police didn’t find any clues. They were losing hope. Shuffling through the lawn with a doleful looks on their faces, they didn't expect to find anything. They suspected that Justin had been here for no more than a few minutes, as even the police assumed that he was beaten and dragged into a car. But there was no trace, no tyre marks. That wasn’t a neighbourhood with a lot of cameras. The police reportedly received several recordings from the area and they were looking through them but, as far as they knew, had not discovered anything yet.

“I can’t believe it’s really happening,” said Charlie quietly. “I’m having a hard time processing all of it. I mean, shit. Justin? Kidnapped? It’s crazy.”

“I feel you, it’s like I'm stuck in a very weird dream. Clay and Jess are totally freaking out, and I’m not surprised.” Zach’s phone rang. “Speak of the devil, it’s him.” He put the phone on speaker. “You got something?”

“No, and we’re finished. How far are you?”

“Uh, well, we’re checking the last zone for the second time,” Zach said in an annoyed tone. “We’ve only found old rubbish that must have been there for a long time. There’s nothing here, man. You got any ideas what’s next?”

“I came up with something,” Clay admitted with a lowered voice, sounding suspicious. “I need you to do something. I’ll pick you up in the evening, you’re in?”

Zach and Charlie stopped and exchanged concerned looks. “Why evening?” Charlie asked.

“And what’s the plan?” Zach added.

They heard rustling on the other end. “Listen, not now, just tell me if you’re in or not.”

At that time, they were willing to do anything. They both confirmed, without hesitation.

“Good, just keep quiet about it.”

***

When the Prius pulled in the driveway of Dempseys’ house, Clay didn’t have to wait long. Before he even managed to take out his phone, Zach had already opened the front door and ran up to the car. 

“Dude, where are we going?” he asked, getting in.

Clay was nervous, his hands trembled. Getting back on the road, he said, “I’ll tell you when we get Charlie.”

Zach rolled his eyes and started bouncing his leg impatiently. “What’s the big deal with keeping it a secret? What the hell are we going to do?” 

Clay drove, focused on the road. Poked, he clicked his tongue. “It may be risky, but I don’t think we really have an alternative. I just don’t want to make a fuss about it.”

Zach raised his eyebrows. “Okay, but why you asked us, and not Tony?”

Clay didn’t answer. 

As they picked up Charlie, Clay turned around to face both of them and sighed gustily. 

“So, Seth got released and no one knows where the hell is he.” He paused. “No address, nothing, and his old place is empty. I know where we can try to ask around, but the guys there are not, uhm, they're not really amicable representatives of human species.”

“You mean, you wanna ask druggies?” Zach asked and nodded. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“Clay.” Charlie looked unconvinced. „You're sure about it? Last time you ended up without your phone and with head split open.”

“Yup, that’s why I need you,” Clay said, pursing his lips.

Zach turned around to Charlie. „Dude, what other choice do we have? It's like, we're literally out of anything, we're running in circles. It's a fucking miracle they even found the blood and it hasn't been washed away.”

Clay nodded, agreeingly. „I don't know if it works, but we've gotta try. Please.”

They both stared at Charlie. He looked torn. Finally he said, „Okay, guys, okay. Let's do it.”

„We've got your back, Clay.” Zach was clearly contented. Clay did, too. They could feel less useless, for a change.

They've reached the docks in silence. Clay led them to the place where he had found a guy who recognized Justin the last time, but the spot was empty. It didn't make them give up. Walking around, they listened intently. Muffled voices echoed, but it was difficult to localize the sources.

Finally, the sounds started to get louder and they knew they were getting closer. The voices seemed to come from an alley. They split up in silence, entering from opposite sides. Clay figured that if they all come directly, they would spook them. 

There were five boys, some of them were sitting, some of them lying, probably drugged. Approaching them quietly, Clay quickly scanned their faces. He was hoping to find a familiar face, but none of them was the one he talked to before.

„Hey,” he started and then cleared the throat. „I, uhm, I'm looking for this guy, Seth, do you happen to know him? Middle-aged, blonde, with a, uhm, Scorpion tattoo on his neck.”

A burst of laughter responded him. 

„Get lost, dipshit.”

“Yeah, fuck off!”

Clay sighed and took out a poster with Justin’s photo. “Maybe you’ve seen this guy?”

They looked at each other and stood up. “Not going to happen,” one of them said.

“What?” Clay asked, startled.

“We’re not talking to fucking uptight rich folks.”

The two of them started approaching Clay, and then a shout came from the other side of alley. “Hey!”

Next thing Clay knew, the boys were all running in different directions. Everything happened too fast. Clay blinked and before he realized what was going on, Zach was kneeing one of the guys he managed to catch. Charlie was standing right next to him, trying to grab the kid.

Clay shouted, but they ignored him. Before he reached them, the boy lay on the ground, pinned by Zach. He clearly struggled. 

Feeling a lump in his throat, Clay swallowed hard and just stood there, paralyzed. The boy looked a little younger than them. 

Zach looked straight in the boy’s face. “You better talk.” The boy kept fighting. Zach’s fist smashed his face. “Say what you know, scumbag!” 

Clay had never seen him so angry. He wanted to say something, to stop this, but curiosity got the best of him.

“Okay, okay, just let me go!” the boy squealed, quivering with fear. Zach and Charlie stepped back, but stayed close on alert.

“You know this guy? Or Seth?” Zach demanded.

“I–, I–, I dunno, I only heard the nickname ‘Meth Seth’, that’s all.”

“From whom?” Zach insisted, looking intimidatingly, which made the boy shrunk into himself.

“I–, I’m not sure.”

“You better start remembering, because we’re not going anywhere without answer,” Charlie said in a tone, that neither Clay, nor Zach had ever heard.

“It–, it–, it’s just some g-guy.” He paused and quickly glanced around. He clearly hoped for backup, but no one was coming to help him. “If I t-tell you where he is, will you leave me be?”

Zach looked at Clay, who stood with his jaw dropped, still visibly confused. He nodded nervously, so Zach said, “Yup, just speak up, dude.”

The boy kept shaking and gave them the address, then sprang to his feet clumsily and turned to ran away, but Charlie moved to stand on his way and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“If you lie, we’ll find you.” Then he took a step aside, clearing the way. The boy hurried away, looking back nervously.

When he disappeared behind the corner, Clay snapped, “The fuck was that?”

“What, we needed something, we got it,” Zach said with a shrug. “Come on, we have to check it.” He turned around and started to walk, heading back where they left the car. 

Clay waved his hands up in a gesture of outrage and turned to Charlie. “What was that about?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You took us here, and now you’re upset we’re actually not coming back empty handed?” He followed Zach.

Clay huffed. “I guess I forgot you used to hang out with Monty.”

Charlie stopped, looking hurt. 

Zach turned around and approached Clay. “Dude seriously?”

Sighing, Clay folded his arms. “It’s just–, I didn’t want you to bully anyone, okay? This is exactly why I didn’t want Tony to know.”

“Well, boo-hoo, at least we’ve got something,” Zach scoffed.

“Come on, let’s just check it,” Charlie tried to ease the situation, but he got ignored.

“Have you thought about using your brain sometimes?! What if Justin’s somewhere on the streets, or–, or–, or this kid deals for Seth, and it all will backfire on him?”

Zach flared his nostrils. “Well, it was you who showed him Justin’s photo, wasn’t it?”

Charlie came between them and put hands on their shoulders in a conciliatory gesture. Clay moved away immediately. “You’re hurt, you’re angry, I get that and it’s normal, but we’re not your enemies here, so don’t fight us, okay?”

Clay closed his eyes and scratched his forehead with a deep sigh. “It’s just–,” he paused. “You’re right, nevermind, let’s hope the address is correct.”

* * *

“He’ll kill me. When he finds out.”

These words echoed endlessly in his head. It was the last time Justin saw her alive. She was disappointed. _He_ disappointed her. He promised that he would stay with her, she counted on him, she hoped that he would protect her. But he left her, sentencing her to death. She suffered, she suffered constantly and he did not help her. He forced her to run away, to hide in fear for her life. Seth got her anyway.

He could still see the image of her sad blue eyes, full of pain and suffering. It was distorted, distant. He felt as if he was still there, on the doorway of their house, and looked at his mother, wanting to remember her face. When he strained his eyes, he could only see pale, dead face and lifeless eyes. 

Justin lay on the bed and stared absently at the ceiling. After all the things that happened to him there, at some point, something snapped inside of him and his mind blanked out. He lost his sense of control over his own body. His mind and body became separate. The body operated mechanically, carried out orders, sat down, got up, approached the door for food. His mind drifted away, lost in memories. He could still feel what his body felt, but he treated the pain like any pain in his life; clenching his teeth, he just waited for it to fade, emotionlessly. Despite the fact that it never seemed to be over.

Increasingly he started to think that he deserved it. It’s easier to bear punishment when it’s justified. He had done a lot of things. A lot of bad things. 

He was torn, unsure what to think. Once he saw a boy standing in the distance, looking sadly at the same scenes that he had to experience. Little Justin. Then he felt sorry for this boy, for himself. Another time, being on his knees obediently, trying to catch air, he called himself a whore, remembering his mother’s words. ‘You can run as far as you want, you’ll never get away from who you are.’

That was why he couldn't have any emotions. Any hope. He just waited for it all to end.

He tried to ignore all his hallucinations. Seeing these people did not bring him relief, only more pain. He couldn’t think about getting out of there. He didn’t know how would he ever look into Jessica's or Clay’s eyes again. Or Jensens’. Or anyone else’s. His mind was shattered, his body was broken and violated. 

* * *

“That’s the place, I guess,” Clay said as they pulled over, looking at the old caravan. “You stay in the car.”

“What? Why?” Zach said, indignant, and Charlie added, “Why you dragged us all the way out here?”

“Not to be Monties, for sure.”

“Dude.” Zach raised his eyebrows. 

Clay rolled his eyes. “Sorry, okay? Just don’t want to scare this guy. If…”

“Just go there, we’ll have your back in case anything happens,” Charlie cut him off, placatingly. Zach didn't look convinced, but he nodded.

Clay got off and approached the caravan. It was late, but the TV light reflected in the window, so someone was probably up. Hesitantly, he knocked on the door, feeling his pulse speed up. At first no one opened, so he knocked again.

“Who the fuck is it,” he heard a murmur through the door, steps, and then the door opened. A man in his late thirties asked, “What the fuck?”

Clay smiled crookedly, trying not to look suspiciously. “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but…”

“Well, you bother, so get lost, kid,” he cut him off. He started closing the door, but Clay stopped it with his hand. 

“Just– I– I’m looking for, uh, Seth, Meth Seth.”

The man scratched his chin, looking puzzled. “What the fuck for?”

“Business.”

Unconvinced, the man narrowed his eyes and sized him up. Clay decided to take a risk. “We–, uh, we were supposed to meet, but I must’ve fucked something up, the time or something. A– a guy told me to ask you, that you may help me.”

The man seemed to take the bait. „What business, drugs, or the other?”

Having no idea what he meant, Clay admitted, „The other.”

“He’s fucking recruiting? I thought it was just a one kid.”

Clay's heart instantly started to thump. Trying to control his emotions, he managed to continue, „Yeah, no, I don't know, I'm just desperate for money, you know, fucking student loan, I thought it may be worth it.”

Laughing, the man put a hand on shoulder. “You’re a funny kid, so I'll be honest, don't fucking try.”

Clay's jaw dropped, and before he said anything, the man continued, „This shit's messed up, don't get caught in it. You're not _that_ desperate.”

„Well, I am.”

„Listen, I'm totally stoned so I already said too much, but hear me when I say: look somewhere else.”

Clay shook his head. „Just fucking give me something, it's not your business.”

„Okay, get in.”

„What?” Clay asked, startled, but the man didn't answer, just grabbed him and pulled him in.

The insides of caravan looked just as Clay imagined. Old furnitures, a lot of trash and empty beer cans. The man sat on the coach and pointed him a place to sit. Clay obediently sat, still unsure what was going on. It was slightly brighter than outside, so he managed to take a look at the man. He had disheveled blond hair and medium stubble. A fragment of the tattoo stuck out from above the stained T-shirt. He definitely looked shady, but his face didn’t have a sinister expression. 

„You're too uptight to look for a job at someone like Seth,” the man noticed, staring at the TV. „Wanna tell me what the fuck is it about?”

Opening and closing his mouth, Clay tried to figure out what to say. He didn't know anything about that man, which made it harder for him to decide. He focused on what he heard. Finally, deciding to take a risk, he blurted, „What is the other thing?”

The man didn't seem surprised. „Why are you asking about Seth?”

„Where is he?”

„Why do you wanna find him?”

„Fuck!” Clay jumped to his feet, folded his arms and sighed. „He kidnapped my brother, I need to find him. I need to know where is he and what this psycho does to him.”

„Whoa,” the man reacted, raising his arms up. „Wow.” He looked at Clay for a minute, and then he said, „I don't really know anything than fucking rumours, I only listen to stuff on the streets.”

„But you clearly know _something_!”

The man sighed, stood up and disappeared in the another room. Clay looked around and noticed a move out of a corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw Zach's forehead disappearing under the window frame. He instantly felt better, knowing that Zach and Charlie are just a few steps away.

When the man went back, he was holding a picture frame. „What's your name?” he asked.

He hesitated for a minute, but decides that if the man was going to tell Seth about this visit, it wouldn't matter if he gave his real name or not. “Clay.”

Passing a frame to him, the man said, „I'm Vinnie, and this motherfucker was my little brother Oli.”

Clay grabbed the picture and looked at the smiling face of a teenager boy. Before he asked, Vinnie said, „He got hit by a fucking truck, died on the spot.”

„I'm so sorry.” Clay felt a lump in his throat. 

Vinnie returned to the coach and opened a beer can.

„I didn't hear much, and I don't know where's his place now, but I hope you'll find your brother.”

„What _did_ you hear?” Clay insisted, feeling a bile coming to his throat. He was so stressed that he was sure he'd throw up the minute he got out. “Please, tell me something, anything.”

„I only heard he's looking for loaded guys who want to pay a lot for some messed up stuff with a kid.”

Clay blinked hard, trying to connect the dots. „What stuff?”

„I don't know, some crazy shit, don’t know the details.”

Clay went silent for a minute and then he frowned. „Wait, like, sex?”

„Yeah, like, whatever they like. There are some fucked-up guys who looks for fucked-up things. I was surprised when I heard about it, I didn’t know Seth deals with this.”

Clay hid his face in his trembling hands. His entire body quivered. His mind gave him images so terrible, so dreadful, that he could not bear them. He felt even more impatient and horrified. He must find him. Immediately.

Vinnie approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know, kid, it’s fucked up. I don’t like this guy anyway, so I’ll ask around if you want.”

Clay raised his head and nodded in confusion, feeling tears coming to his eyes. He felt Vinnie pushing the paper and pen in his hand.

“Write down your number.”

Trembling and blinking hard, Clay wrote his number crookedly and hand the paper to him.

“Okay, now get lost and keep your head low, you won't find his place by yourself anyway. Let alone the fucking police, you know it, right?”

Clay silently nodded, feeling as if he had a blow to the head. Vinnie opened the door for him and pushed him out slightly. He could feel his feet moving, but his body felt numb. His legs seemed too heavy to move. He didn’t realize when Zach and Charlie surrounded him.

“Is everything okay?” Charlie asked, and at the same time Zach said, “Tell me you got something.”

Clay clenched his teeth and wanted to collapse, to lay down and cry for Justin, but he knew it was dangerous to be around this caravan. He knew they needed to get out as fast as possible, so he rushed to the car, ignoring both of them. They were saying something, but he didn't hear the words. He could only hear his heartbeat.

When they approached the Prius, he turned to Zach. “Drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're in the US and protest, stay safe and take care of yourself. I support you with all my heart. I hope it all ends well.  
> If you're anywhere else, also stay safe and take care of yourself. The world is a crazy place rn.  
> Thanks for leaving kudos and comments to y'all, love you <3


	9. Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay is torn. Everything seems to be a bad idea.

Clay wasn't sure whether it was better to know it all, or nothing at all. He felt crushed. Just thinking about what might be happening to Justin made him nauseous. He wanted to cry and shout, but he sat in silence on Prius's backseat, unable to move. The car stood outside his house for a long time, but he didn't get out. He tried to digest what he had just heard, though he knew he couldn’t. How can you digest something like this?

Zach and Charlie sat in the front in silence. Seeing Clay’s condition, they eventually stopped asking, but confusion and fear were written all over their faces. They knew he had found out something, and it was eating them alive.

"Wanna come inside?" Zach asked after a long moment of silence. "Have a glass of water, or something?"

Clay only blinked, confused by his question. It seemed so mundane. He had no idea how was he supposed to drink. To move. Breathe.

Zach and Charlie exchanged looks and left the car, regardless of his lack of response. The door opened, and Clay involuntarily got out. Automatically, feeling as if he was outside his own body. Everything seemed slowed down and distant. 

Step by step, they came to the outhouse. The moment Clay stepped inside, he looked at Justin's bed and felt a sudden surge of remorse, he felt so guilty that his knees buckled.

Holding to the wall, he reached the sink in kitchenette and turned the water on. His head dropped slowly until it slid under the stream. The water was cold and his face was burning, and it hurt, but it brought him a slight relief. A second later he felt something pulling him back. He blinked, trying to see through the drops on his eyelids. It was Charlie, holding him by the shoulders. He began to lead him towards the bed.

"Sit down, okay? Just sit down."

Clay walked beside him, although his legs were jittery. He fell heavily onto the bed and buried his face in his hands. His pulse had not slowed down since his visit to Vinnie; his heart was pounding as if it were about to escape his chest.

Raising his head, he looked at Zach, leaning on the countertop, standing in the same spot where Justin did the day before he disappeared. He looked at Charlie, sitting next to him, just like Justin the night before. He felt his mind falling into emptiness. Into nothingness. As if everything he learned that day made him unable to function.

Zach started to be impatient. "Man, just talk to us."

Clay took a few deep breaths, but realized he wasn’t able to calm down. He frowned, trying to focus, to put the words together. "It's hard to believe, but he actually knew something about Seth," he stammered, then paused. "He's gonna ask around."

"Okay, but knew what?" Zach insisted.

Clay fixed his eyes on the floor. "He heard rumours that Seth has someone locked up."

"Why would anyone know about it?" Charlie wondered. "It's against the law, why would he brag about it? Why–"

"Of course it's against the fucking law, he's a fucking criminal!" Zach snapped. "He wants him to deal, right? Or what?”

"He didn't know."

"Bullshit." Fuming, Zach started walking around nervously. "So what, he's gonna give you Seth’s address, or what?"

Clay shrugged his shoulders. "I hope."

Zach rubbed his eyes and tapped his knees. "Okay, I guess it's a win. Let's just hope he'll give us something more." He turned to Charlie. "You're coming?"

Charlie parted his lips, looked at Clay, and then again at Zach. "Nah, I think I'm gonna stay."

"Okay, whatever. 'Night."

The moment Zach left the room, Clay started to feel faint again. The pain started to crush his chest and he was unable to breathe. The image before his eyes started to blur and darken.

"Is there anything I can do?" Charlie asked softly, with a concerned look on his face. 

Clay struggled to catch a breath and then he realized. “It’s,” he managed to gasp, but the voice got stuck in his throat. 

Charlie’s eyes went wide and he stared at Clay wheezing, unsure what to do. “Uh, okay, okay,” he tried to calm himself. “Okay, okay, you’re having a panic attack, right?”

Holding his chest, Clay nodded vigorously.

“Fuck,” Charlie blurted and clutched his head.

***

“The light’s on,” Lainie noticed, standing by the kitchen window. 

Matt was sitting on a couch in living room, half-asleep. He straightened up at the sound of her voice. “Good, thank God,” he said, yawning and put the book he was holding on his lap back on the table. He got up, heading upstairs.

“Where was he?” Lainie continued, still staring at the outhouse. “Should we talk to him?”

“It’s 3 AM, we’ll talk in the morning.”

“Matt, I’m worried.”

He turned around and frowned at her. “Are you suggesting that I’m not? Go to sleep, I’ll check up on him if you want.”

“Look, it’s Zach,” she suddenly noticed, pointing a finger.

Matt approached the window and looked. “Yeah, so Clay was with him, and he brought him back home. You know that they’re looking for Justin.”

“He’s looking for Seth.” Matt didn’t reply. “He seems pretty convinced. Should we look for him, too?”

“How are we going to find him, if the police failed to do it? We’re out of options. I don’t know what more we can do.”

She sighed, came closer and put her head on his chest. He embraced her, patting gently her back.

“You’re trembling,” he noticed quietly. She sobbed, moving away, wiping tears from her cheeks. 

“Honey, I know it’s exhausting, we have to stay strong, for him. We can’t fall apart.”

Lainie inhaled sharply, trying to calm herself. “I know.”

“Clay, he’s not handling it well. Not that I blame him.”

“I’m not handling it well, too,” she whispered.

“I know.” Matt nodded glumly. “We have to have hope. We have to stick to that. I’ll check up on him.”

She tilted her head and kissed his cheek softly. “Okay.” 

Upset, she left the kitchen. Her steps echoed in the empty, silent house almost ominously. Matt took a look through the window again and quietly left the house. He crossed the backyard and stopped by the door. He strained to hear any sounds, but there were none. He cracked open the door to peek in.

“Clay, you’re home?”

There was a rumble, the sound of door opening and closing, and he saw Charlie walking toward him, pale and clearly distressed. 

“Hi, Mr. Jensen, yeah, Clay’s here.”

“He’s okay?” Matt asked, concerned, but Charlie waved his hand.

“Yeah, no, he’s kinda sick, but you do not have to worry. I’m handling it.”

“You’re sure you don’t need anything?”

Charlie shook his head dismissively. “It’s fine.”

Matt nodded. “You know where I am in case you need anything. Thank you for staying with him again.”

* * *

The door hinges squeaked and Justin cringed automatically, knowing what was coming. 

“Get up.” Seth’s voice surprised him. 

Staggering, he got up obediently. He fixed his eyes on the ground, staring blankly at one spot. Embracing himself tightly, he rocked back and forth. 

Seth walked in circle around him, sizing him up. Then, he grabbed his chin and forced him to raise his head. Justin didn’t resist. Seth looked at the dry blood on his forehead and jaw, badly split lip, purple fresh bruises and the old, yellowish. They were all over his face and neck. His shirt was stained and stiff.

“You look like you've had enough for today,” he smirked and poked him in the broken shoulder, causing Justin to involuntary hiss. “Your clients were well pleased, I made more money on you today than on anything else,” he admitted victoriously. “Go wash yourself and get some sleep, round two tomorrow.”

Seth moved away and pointed at the door. Limping, Justin moved forward slowly. It was even worse than a shower in juvie, but he couldn't wait to wash it all off. He felt sticky and gross. In fact, it wasn’t even a shower, but a harsh hosing, but it didn’t matter. 

When he returned to his cell, he felt that the body was his again. For a moment. He got fresh clothes and that was everything that mattered to him at that point. The bedsheet was changed, too, but he didn't even think about going there. He curled on the concrete floor, trying to fall asleep. Tired as he was, he couldn’t catch a wink of sleep after everything that happened. His mind was racing through images. Amber’s sad eyes. Her sallow complexion. Her smile. The pride on her face when he became the basketball team captain. He couldn’t get angry at her anymore. He was angry at himself.

“You said she was a shitty mother,” Clay’s voice echoed in his head.

“No,” he protested out loud, shaking his head. “No.” Tears blurred his vision and he wiped them off. “She was just afraid. She was afraid. She didn’t want us to end up on the streets.”

“Look where that got you.”

“Get out of my head. GET. OUT.” Justin clenched a fist and started hitting his forehead wildly. It hurt, but he ignored it. The wound on his temple opened and he felt a warm trickle of blood running down his face.

“I’m not going anywhere. Stop haunting yourself.”

“You stop.”

“You’re not guilty. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“Fuck you!” he yelled, and put his healthy arm around his head to hide. A sob shook his entire body as he started to cry, causing a violent wave of pain. Breathing shallowly, he tried to focus on something else. He started to stare blankly at the wall again, and his mind turned off again, detached from his body. His aching body lay on the floor. In his mind, he was shooting up heroin. He felt sudden warmth and euphoria. Feeling safe again, he blacked out.

* * *

Charlie returned to the bathroom to find Clay resting his head on the toilet seat. His lips were parted, his eyes stared absently at the wall. 

“That was your dad, I told him you’re sick,” Charlie explained, but Clay didn’t seem to hear him. He didn’t seem to even notice he returned.

“If you’re not gonna puke more, I’ll take you to bed.”

As he said, he did so. He pulled Clay up and led him back to bed. Clay obediently lay down and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Charlie looked up and noticed Justin’s doodle. A house on fire, a dog with an awkward smile. _‘This is fine.’_

“It isn’t fine, isn’t it?” Charlie asked rhetorically and with a sigh, he started cleaning up Clay’s vomit from the floor. A few moments passed, and suddenly Clay responded.

“It’s not fine. I’m not fine. Justin’s not fine.”

Charlie put down the cloth and, still in the sitting kneel, looked up at Clay. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“I...can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just–, I’ve,” he paused. “Lost. The ability. To can.”

Clay went silent again, so Charlie continued to clean up. When he finished, he turned the light off and sat on Justin’s bed. He looked at Clay, who looked as if he was still gathering his thoughts to say something.

Clay finally murmured, “Do you think I should believe that guy?”

“I don’t know, did he sound...trustworthy?”

“He seemed moved.”

“Moved by what?” Charlie frowned, and turned to his back to look at Clay, still laying in the same position. 

“I told him I’m looking for my brother. He showed me a picture of his brother. Deceased”

“Oh,” Charlie replied only.

“Tell me.”

“Huh?”

“Am I supposed to sit still and do nothing?”

Charlie lay back flat and looked at the ceiling, and he was struck by the thought whether Justin would ever go back here. To his bed. Suddenly, he felt strange lying there. He could smell his cologne, the pillow was soaked in it. Without saying a word he got up, put it on Clay and turned back. He had no idea what he was doing, but he felt it could help.

Clay put his hands on the pillow and, somehow, unfreezed. For the first time, he looked straight at Charlie, who was smiling softly. He returned the smile faintly, even though it was full of hurt and worry. 

“I think we should put our faith in this guy,” Charlie finally responded, trying to sound hopeful. 

“I hate it.”

“I hate it, too. But...if Seth really has him, asking about him on the street may not be a good idea, you know what I mean?”

Clay nodded and squeezed Justin’s pillow tighter.

***

The fifth day seemed to last forever. Clay didn’t even left the bed, constantly checking the phone. Countless texts from Jessica irritated him. She kept asking what to do, and he had no idea. He didn't tell her about Vinnie, even though Charlie and Zach thought he should. Despite this, they promised to keep quiet. For some reason, Clay felt that it was better this way. Jess was already upset enough.

Charlie went to school, so the only company he had was Justin’s pillow. He didn't know if his scent made him feel better or worse, but he didn't put it back. His parents would came to him from time to time, begging him to eat or drink something, but he didn’t move. As he lay there all day, conflicting thoughts tormented him. He was torn whether he should stay home, or go again to the docks, trying to get any more information. The thought that Justin was suffering, and he was doing nothing, was killing him. 

It was near dusk, and he started to lose patience, when he got a text from an unknown number.

_‘Just got some intel on a guy who’s asking about freaks with fat stacks. I’m on it.’_

Clay immediately replied, _‘I can’t wait and do nothing anymore.’_ He had to wait a long time for an answer, which made him anxious. The phone finally beeped.

‘ _I’m getting closer. Stay low, kid.’_

Clay furiously threw it across the room and sighed. He felt it couldn’t end well.

***

On the morning of the sixth day, he was woken up by the door pounding.

“Clay, Clay, are you in there?” his mom was calling out.

Just in case, he locked the door in the evening. He looked at the clock, surprised that he had slept so long. He didn't even realize when he passed out. On the other hand, since Justin had disappeared, he’d slept only a few hours altogether and he’d been on the verge of exhaustion.

He scrambled out of bed and unlocked the door, immediately turning towards the kitchenette. 

Lainie barged in. “Why did you lock the door?”

Clay ignored her, preparing a coffee. 

She came up to him and grabbed him by his forearm. “Come.” She started pulling him towards the door. 

Confused, he followed her and asked, “What are you doing?”

Without stopping, she replied, “Mr. Standall came by.”

Clay’s heart started to thump like crazy. He got past her and ran straight to the house. His dad and the deputy were sitting by the kitchen table with serious faces.

“What, what is it?” he stammered, breathless.

“We’ve found Amber Foley,” Mr. Standall said, sighing. “Unfortunately, she’s deceased.”

Clay looked at his him with a dropped jaw, speechless. Slowly, he sank into the chair. A million thoughts crossed his mind.

“She overdosed, most likely. We’re waiting for a toxicological report,” the deputy continued.

“It’s Seth,” Clay blurted frantically. “It’s him, you’re going to do the autopsy, right?”

The deputy sighed. “It will take a while before we get the results of the full autopsy. Initial findings show that third parties were probably not involved. She has abrasions and slight traces of violence, but she was a known heroin addict, presumably homeless, it's nothing suspicious.”

“How is it not suspicious? Justin disappeared, and now you find his mother's body?” Clay was fuming.

“It’s, uh, we have no reason to say that this is anything other than a coincidence.”

“Son,” Matt started, but Clay got up from the table and went back to the backyard, ignoring his parents.

His phone started to vibrate. It was Jess. He heard footsteps behind him, and to avoid another pointless discussion, he decided to pick up.

“Clay, why you’re not answering my texts?!” Her voice trembled. “We’ve gotta talk.”

“Yeah, we do,” he only replied.

Jess went silent, startled. She probably didn’t expect him to agree so easily. “I’ll be in Monet’s in five.”

Hanging up, he went straight to the Prius. When he arrived, Jess was sitting at the table with a sad face.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Seth kidnapped him?!” she whisper-shouted.

Clay shushed her. “I told you.”

“You didn’t tell that someone confirmed it!”

“No one said it’s him.”

Jess sighed, annoyed. “Clay, you can’t keep things like that from the police!”

“Was it Charlie or Zach?” he asked, and she frowned.

“What does it matter?

Clay shrugged his shoulders.

“Seriously, we should tell that to Alex’s dad.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s no point.”

“Why would you say that?”

“They found Amber’s body.”

“Oh my god.” She covered her mouth with a hand. “Seriously? What–“

“They say she OD’ed, and they presupposed the lack of third party involvement, apparently.”

Jess went silent, unsure what to say.

“You know what would happen if the police started to question Vinnie? Seth will take Justin somewhere else, or kill him, the minute he realizes that anyone is too close.”

Jess threw her arms up in protest. “So you’re just gonna do nothing?”

“I don’t know,” Clay sighed. “I don’t know what to do. I’m so fucking scared and I don’t know what to do. I feel that every decision that I’ve made was bad.”

Jess moved her head away, staring through the window. Clay joined her. Cars passed, people walked in all directions, life went on. It seemed surreal that Justin was gone, and the world didn’t stop.

After a long while, Jess broke the silence. “What exactly this Vinnie said? Please, tell me.”

Clay lowered his head and closed his eyes. “You know everything.”

“I don’t think I do, Zach and Charlie aren’t the brightest and you might’ve fooled them, but you won’t blow me off so easily,” she pointed out stubbornly. “You were saying it was Seth from the beginning you, and now suddenly, when you find out that he really has Justin, you get a panic attack? It doesn’t add up.”

“Jess, I’m not sure if these rumours are true.”

“But you can still tell me!”

Clay shook his head wearily. “It doesn’t change anything.”

He felt a vibration in his pocket and stopped listening. It was a text. _‘126 Fowler Rd.’_

He jumped up and rushed to the exit. Jessica ran after him and stopped him, grabbing him firmly by the arm.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Clay only gave her a frantic look. They both ran to the Prius, and he turned the engine on.

“You’re sure we shouldn’t call someone? What if it’s a set-up?”

He felt a heavy pressure on his chest and his heart racing. A cold sweat appeared on his forehead. “We have to check it.” Without thinking twice, he stepped on the gas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, over 100 kudos, thank you very much for that! I didn't expect so many people to like my story :3


	10. Going Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay and Jess follow the trail.

“It’s bad, it’s bad, oh my god,” Jess raved, looking around nervously. “It’s such a bad idea.”

Clay turned into a narrow alley, miles away from the city centre. According to the navigation, they were six minutes from the destination. 

It was before midday, the sky was cloudless and the sun was shining brightly. It completely mismatched how they felt. Tension and fear were growing inside them with each metre, and the area seemed more and more frightening. There was nothing unusual about the neighbourhood they were passing through, but the houses seemed deserted, dark and ominous. Even pedestrians seemed hostile.

“I’m gonna let everybody know,” she informed him suddenly and her shaky fingers began to tap on the screen. “Just in case,” she added, feeling Clay's eyes on her.

Focused on the road, he didn’t reply. His hands were trembling too, and he had a lump in his throat. The taste of bile in his mouth made him nauseous.

Having no idea who was waiting at the address, he was making countless theories in his head, trying to prepare. It could be Seth. It could be Vinnie. It could be a trap. It could be an informant, who’d give him information. Even though he should ask Vinnie about it, he decided not to; he was to get an address, he got one. If it was a trap, he wouldn't tell him anyway.

“Promise me you won’t get in. If it’s the right address, we’ll call the police. Promise me that, Clay.”

He nodded, but he wasn’t sure he’d do that. Sometimes you can’t wait. Sometimes you don’t have the time to think, you just act.

At the last turn, he noticed a sign and stopped. “Fowler. It’s here.” They both seemed to hold their breath as he drove, slowly, cautiously. The street was not densely built up, the houses were mostly small, single-storey. Some seemed time-bitten, some looked abandoned. There were a lot of thick bushes and trees around, which made the area a bit darker. More suited to their moods.

Clay pulled off quite a bit before number 126, in order not to raise suspicions. He unbuckled the seatbelt and looked at Jess. She put her trembling hands together and slid them between her thighs.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, it’d be better if you stay behind the wheel. You know, just in case.”

Jess gasped nervously. “You’ve got, like, five minutes and I’m calling backup,” she said in a quavering voice. “This is such a bad idea.”

Clay sighed and rolled his eyes, regretting he took her. “I'll just look around.”

* * *

A rumble woke Justin up. A metal bowl rang to the concrete floor and the sound of door slamming echoed in his cell. 

He felt way more sore than yesterday. His body was stiff from the pain and he felt feverish. A violent cough shook his body and made him groan hoarsely. Breathing shallowly, he feebly raised himself from the ground and, bent in half, moved forward. Chewing hurt and the food was tasteless, but he quickly emptied the bowl. It didn’t satisfy his hunger, but at least stopped his stomach from growling. 

He sat on the floor and leaned his back against the bed, trying not to think about the pain throbbing his side. In this position, it hurt a little less. He tried to focus on the cracks on ceiling, to dissociate from the suffering. 

After a while, the door opened again, and a man in his fifties came in. Automatically, Justin scrambled to his feet and his mind immediately drifted away. Everything the man was saying was muffled. The man’s hands clenched on his neck and pushed him. He fell on the bed, and the man’s weight crushed him. Gasping for air, his hands went to his throat as the intruder straddled him. His lungs burned. All he could hear was buzzing in his head, even though he could see that the man's mouth was moving.

The grip suddenly weakened and Justin opened his mouth, trying to take a gulp of air, but a punch to the stomach left him breathless. He winced and wheezed, nearly fainting. The man flipped him over to his stomach in one swift motion like a ragdoll. His body crushed him once again and he focused on fighting for breath, rather than the warm breath and wet kisses on his neck, or the crotch brushing against him.

Before the man moved on, someone interrupted him. The door busted open and the pressing weight on his back subsided.

* * *

“You did WHAT?!” Tony yelled. 

It would be an understatement to say he was angry. Tony was furious. The minute he got Jess’s text, he went straight to Zach and heard a brief story about their visit to the docks. “Are you all out of your minds?!” he continued.

Zach shrugged his shoulders. “It wasn’t such a bad idea.”

The school bell rang, but they ignored it.

“Yeah, at least better than going alone to an unknown address that he got from some junkie.”

“He’s with Jess,” Zach retorted, and on second thought added, “Okay, it’s equally as bad. But she said that they don’t know what’s at the address, right?”

Panting, Tony closed Zach’s locker shut. “And you really think Clay won’t literally burst straight into that house? Come on. You’re going with me.”

“Where?”

“Maybe we'll catch him before he does anything stupid.”

“They’re probably already there, she send that text”—Zach checked his phone—“seven minutes ago.”

“So shut up and hurry.”

* * *

Clay double checked the map, as he couldn’t see the house number plate from the bush. 

That was certainly the place. The house didn’t really stand out from the rest. Two cars were parked on the driveway, and while one of them didn’t look suspicious, the other, quite fancy and expensive, didn’t seem to suit the neighbourhood. He was glancing at the windows, but noticed nothing, no movement. Feeling the growing tension, he decided to sneak closer, slowly walking towards the nearest window with only net curtain in it. He peeked in, only to see an ordinary, slightly outdated kitchen. 

He bent down again and looked around to check if no one saw him. Carefully placing each step, he moved forward, heading towards the backyard. He was near the corner of the house when he heard a rustle behind him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a movement. He jumped back and narrowly escaped the strike, dodging the baseball bat. Adrenaline kicked in and he ran straight ahead, without looking back, but in the middle of yard he realized that he was trapped. The only way out was behind him. He turned around and faced a tall woman in camouflage combat trousers, scowling at him. Cornered, Clay tried to assess his chances, but there was no time to think. Doubting that he could get past her, he rushed to the fence, threw himself at it and tried to flip his body over. 

Clumsily, he succeeded. His body slammed to the concrete and a long moan escaped his mouth. Staggering, he got back on his feet and started to run again. He kept running, turning randomly, until he himself became disoriented. Not knowing how to get back, and not knowing if the woman was still chasing him, he curled behind a large dumpster, trying his best to stop gasping. It was only when he stopped that he realized what had happened and felt the panic. It was close. He barely escaped.

Trying to calm his breath, he reached for his phone, only to realize that his pockets were empty. It must have fallen out when he jumped over the fence, or ran. Cursing, he looked around, but it wasn’t near him. 

He sat there for another few minutes, terrified, when he heard a familiar revving. It was definitely Tony’s Mustang. Without thinking twice, he straightened up and rushed towards the sound. He ran through two backyards, and in the moment he noticed a red car on the street, he also noticed the woman again, going straight at him from the side. This time he hesitated, and before he managed to move, the blow swept him off his feet. Bemused, he groaned and curled, expecting another blow, but it didn’t come. Instead, the sounds of struggling came to him. He raised his head and blinked hard, trying to focus the blurred image. To his surprise, he saw Tony and Zach fighting with the woman. 

“Clay, are you okay?!” Tony yelled, panting. Clay nodded and crawled back. His ears rang and he felt dizzy. He hid his face in his hands, struggling with pain pulsating in his temple.

A minute later, Tony knelt beside him, placing a hand on his back.

“Clay, you’re alright? Clay! Clay, can you hear me?” 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he raised his spinning head and looked around. “Where is she?” he stammered.

“She took off”, Tony replied. He wiped blood from the split lip and helped him back to his feet. 

“Dude.” Zach was staring at his forehead. Clay felt a trickle of warm blood running down his face, it tickled him. He ignored it, and looked at the street again. The Mustang was parked right next to the Prius, so he knew where he was again. He had to go. He had to check. 

“We’ve gotta go,” he said, and then he noticed Jess standing on the pavement at some distance, with a hand covering her mouth.

“Is he there?” she asked feebly, on the verge of tears. 

Not knowing what to say, Clay just turned around and went straight towards that house again. He didn’t feel fear anymore. All he could feel was adrenaline coursing in his veins, and with each step, his anger grew more. He just kept walking, ignoring screaming Jess and Tony and Zach who followed him and tried to talk him out of it. 

The moment they approached the house, they heard the steps and hid in the bush. A man in his fifties went through the front door and ran straight to the expensive car. Tony flinched, but Clay stopped him. 

“It’s not Seth.”

The car pulled off and sped up the road, disappearing quickly. Tony and Zach exchanged looks, confused. They didn’t know, but Clay knew. He wanted to run straight to him and strangle him with his bare hands, because he knew. That man deserved to die for what he probably did to Justin, but now he couldn't focus on it. He couldn't focus on revenge. He kept repeating to himself,  _ ‘He’s inside, you’ve gotta help him.’ _

But he also kept repeating the car’s plate number in his head, sure that that man would pay for what he did.

Without hesitation, Clay rushed straight to the house. The moment he walked through the door, he heard a muffled steps coming from the left. He turned and saw an open door, with stairs behind it. Not thinking twice, he ran downstairs. 

The basement corridor was dark and dingy, but he didn’t waste time to look around. There were three doors, and only one were wide opened. He stepped inside and froze, seeing Justin lying motionless on the bed, and Seth standing over him. Clay’s eyes went wide and he instantly felt dizzy and breathless, as his throat closed up in panic. 

Seth was looking straight at him, hostile. “Get inside, now, up against the wall!” he yelled, and only then did Clay notice a gun in his hand, now pointed at him. Feeling his heart pounding as if trying to escape his chest, he turned around and saw Tony and Zach behind him, both with their hands in the air. 

“Okay, okay, don’t shoot!” Tony shouted back and gave Clay a look. 

Slowly and reluctantly, Clay did as Seth said, but he kept staring at the bed. The light was too dim to see clearly, but Justin looked lifeless. With difficulty he refrained from running straight to him.

“Faster!” Seth roared, waving a gun. 

The moment Zach and Tony joined Clay, Seth retreated and slammed the door shut. Tony rushed to it, but there wasn’t even a door handle. They were locked. 

“No signal, fuck!” he yelled, checking his phone, and started kicking the door furiously.

Clay ran straight to Justin, and Zach followed him. 

“Don’t be fucking dead, don’t be dead,” he repeated frantically, moving Justin’s face towards the light. His jaw dropped as he noticed the countless bruises and wounds all over his face. Justin’s eyes were shut, his mouth open, his body limp. His skin was pale, with unhealthy bluish tint. Clay placed trembling fingers on his neck, trying to check a pulse, staring intently at his chest. 

“Fuck, fuck...” Clay stammered, aghast. 

“Jesus.” Zach interrupted him, poking him in the shoulder. Clay looked up to see a syringe in Zach’s hand. 

Before he managed to react, a loud noise echoed in the house and they could feel the floor vibrating. A second later, once again, and again.

“ _ Mierda _ , gunshots,” Tony whispered and froze, listening carefully. After a second, he began to bang on the door again. “Maybe it’s the police, hey! Hey, let us out!” he yelled.

Clay ignored the sounds, focusing on his struggle to get Justin to the floor. Zach wiped sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand, looking around nervously. 

“Help,” Clay choked out, and Zach sobered up, dropping the syringe and rushing to grab Justin.

“Fuck,” Zach whispered as they placed Justin on the concrete, as limp as a ragdoll, and slumped onto the floor next to him. He looked dead.

With shaky hands, Clay tilted Justin’s head back, plugged his nose and sealed their lips together. He gave him two breaths and then started to compress his chest. 

It was nothing like first aid classes. All he could think was that everything he was doing was wrong. He felt completely helpless, but kept trying, as there was nothing more he could do. When he counted to thirty, he moved up again and gave him two more breaths. Looking at his face, he prayed to see any change. Any reaction. But there was nothing.

Suddenly the door burst open. Involuntarily, Clay looked up and gasped. He didn’t expect  _ that. _

Jessica stood in the doorway bent in half, leaning on the wall, moaning with pain. She kept her hands pressed to her side.

Tony automatically took a step back, terrified. As she started to sink to the floor, he moved to grab her, but Zach was faster; he jumped to his feet and sped to her, catching her, and screaming, “We need to get her help!”

To Clay, everything slowed down and seemed distant, unreal. His mind couldn’t process the fact that Jess was probably shot. All he could see right then was the door. Wide open. He knew what Justin needed. It was the only hope. The only thing that could save him. 

“Tony, you’ve gotta go get naloxone from my glovebox. Please. Please. Go,” he begged with a lump in his throat, compressing Justin’s chest with even greater fervor than before. 

Tony was torn, looked at Justin, and then at Jess. “He’s still there?” he asked.

“I –,  I don’t know,” she stammered and hissed in pain. “I called 911,” she managed to add.

“Good.” A thousand thoughts ran through Tony’s mind, as he ran his fingers through his hair. Seth could still be upstairs. “I’ll go get a first aid kit. And naloxone,” he added, looking at Clay frantically trying to keep Justin from dying. “Sit tight until I say it’s safe.” With a firm expression on his face, Tony ran out of the room.

Clay felt the tears on his cheeks, blurring his vision, and checked the pulse again, but he couldn’t feel anything. Or his hands were too quivery.  _ She can’t die. You can’t die,  _ he kept repeating in his head. The muscles in his arms burned, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. 

Two breaths. Thirty compressions. That was all that mattered.

* * *

Jess was left alone on the pavement and she stared at the backs of Clay, Zach and Tony with horror. 

“Hey, shouldn’t we call the police? Hey! What am I gotta do?” she yelled after them, but the three ignored her. Cursing, she looked around. The woman could get back. 

Terrified, she returned to the Prius, feeling the cold sweat on her forehead. “Fuck, what am I gotta do?” she asked herself under her breath. 

Then, she heard tyre squeal and saw a car speeding right past her, which sent chills down her spine.

“Okay, now I’m definitely calling the police,” she whispered, and took out her phone. 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

Suddenly she realized that she didn't know what to say.

“Hello, are you there?”

Panicked, she finally blurted, “I’m calling about Justin, Justin Foley, he was kidnapped, 126 Fowler Road, he’s probably here, there are my friends and they were attacked, I don’t know what to do.”

“What is your name?” the operator said.

“Jessica Davis.”

“Jessica, can you tell me how many people are injured?”

“I– I don’t know, I’m not with them.”

“Are you in a safe place right now?”

Jess gasped and her eyes darted around impatiently. “I’m in the car, they’re inside the house, I think, please send someone!”

“Help is on the way, please stay on the line, can you...”

Jess couldn’t sit tight. She just ignored him and hung up. She couldn’t bear the suspense, she had to know if Justin was inside. 

She jumped out of the car and ran ahead until she saw number 126 on the mailbox. Without stopping and thinking twice, she turned and headed straight to the wide open front door. All her fears were gone. She didn't think about what might happen, she just had to get there. She had to know.

To her dismay, she entered the house and bumped straight into Seth. Then, everything happened quickly. Too quickly to think straight. All she could do was to act. Instinctively.

As he raised his gun, she bent down and charged towards him, aiming her shoulder at his crotch. Startled, he moved a bit, and she missed, but their bodies clashed. There was no chance for her to win, she knew that. He was taller and stronger than her. Impulsively, she grabbed the barrel of his gun and they began to struggle.

As she felt a searing pain in her ears followed by a buzzing, she realized that the gun went off. Immediately, they both froze and she pulled away, stunned. Her eyes went wide as she noticed a red hole on Seth’s abdomen. The blood was soaking in the fabric quickly, and the stain began to expand. His hand went down, covering the place. There was a confusion on his face, but after a second it was replaced by a grimace. He still held a gun in his hand. Noticing that, Jess turned around and started running away, whimpering. 

She cried out in fright as the gun fired again. Noticing a door right next to her, she wanted to turn towards it, but then another shot went off and she staggered. A hit shook her body, but she managed to bump into the door anyway. Struggled to stop and remain on her feet, she grabbed the railing, nearly falling down the stairs. Slamming the door behind her, she sank to the floor and sobbed. At first, the lack of pain surprised her, but a second later she started to feel the wetness and the pain pulsating in her side, increasing with every beat of her heart. Whimpering, she pressed a hand to her waist. Losing her balance, she slipped down the stairs, and then she heard rumbling and screaming over the ringing in her ears.  _ Tony, it’s Tony! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it wasn't too rushed or too chaotic and you've enjoyed it! Thank you for all the appreciation and excitement, it's very flattering :)  
> I can't wait to start writing the 'comfort' part of 'hurt/comfort'!


	11. How to Save a Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Responsibility. Helplessness. Uncertainty.

Time just stopped. Each second dragged on for eternity and Clay felt his arms weaken with each compression. All his focus was on locking his elbows and keeping the heel of his trembling hand stable on Justin’s sternum, but it was getting harder and harder. He knew he wouldn't last long.

Thirty. Time for breaths. 

Sweat ran down his forehead and down his spine. He was exhausted. Taking a break to wipe his face, surprised to hear nothing but his own rapid heartbeat, he turned his head to the side, towards Jessica and Zach. Both pale, they gazed straight at him in horror. There was no hope on their faces, only fear and disbelief. The kind of expression you see in others when you desperately try to save someone who is already dead.

_ He can’t be dead. He’s not dead. _

Clay wouldn’t give up, he couldn’t, but hope was leaving him too. Yet, he continued. Two breaths. 

The muscles in his arms burned, but he placed his hands again on Justin’s chest. 

“Just don’t be fucking dead,” he stammered, gasping, as he went rhythmically up and down.

When thundering steps came from behind a half-open door, all of them froze, holding their breaths. Seeing Tony, they sighed in relief. Probably not even five minutes had passed, though it seemed as if he had been away for hours.

“I’ve heard the sirens, help’s on the way. Upstairs’ clear, I think.” Throwing the first-aid kit to Zach, Tony rushed straight to Clay, kneeling beside Justin’s limp body. “Have you checked…?” he asked, thrusting a bottle of naloxone into the Clay’s hand. Not waiting for the answer, Tony put his fingers to Justin’s neck, carefully watching his chest.

Clay froze for a second, eyes fixed on the spray. He had read the instruction hundreds of times, but he still had no idea what to do. What if it was too late. What if it was not an opioid and it wouldn’t work. What if he did something wrong, and kill Justin instead.

“Clay, come on!” Tony yelled, poking him in the shoulder. “He’s alive.”

Hearing that, Clay shook off. “What?”

“He’s not breathing, but there’s a pulse, give him that right now!”

Laying aside his doubts, Clay ripped the package and holding the spray in one hand, he placed the other under Justin’s neck, supporting his head. Trying not to hesitate, he inserted the tip of the nozzle into his nose and pressed the plunger. 

“Now what?” Tony asked.

Clay desperately tried to remember the instructions given during their visit at the counselling centre. “Air, he needs air”, he reprimanded himself and leaned to give Justin a breath. His chest rose as Clay exhaled, but nothing else changed.

“It didn’t work?” Jessica asked in a broken voice, panting as Zach was wrapping a bandage around her waist.

Clay counted to five and pumped the air into Justin’s lungs again. “We have to wait,” he gasped, staring at his brother's lifeless face, waiting for any move, any sign that it was getting better.

As the sound of sirens began to be heard in the basement, Zach jumped to his feet. “Jess, we’ve gotta get you to the hospital.”

“What? No, no, I’m not going anywhere!” she yelled, then moaned in pain, as Zach pulled her up, regardless of her protests. “Justin!” she shrieked, trying to let go of grip, but she was too faint. Zach led her out the door, then upstairs.

One, two, three, four, five, exhale. Clay wasn’t giving up.

Finally, two minutes later, Justin began to shiver. Clay and Tony turned him to his side. At the last moment, as the violent gush of vomit escaped his throat, followed by a deep groan.

“Justin. Justin. You hear me?” Clay asked apprehensively, placing hands around his brother’s face. “Hey, ‘you here?”

Wheezing and twitching with his eyelids sealed, Justin didn’t seem to be really awake.

Hearing footsteps and voices coming from above, Clay realized that they should take Justin out as soon as possible, but he was afraid to hurt him. Convulsions alone must’ve caused him tremendous pain. 

Or maybe not, maybe he was too unconscious, but he looked as if he was suffering.

Tony placed a hand on Clay’s shoulder and gave him a mirthless smile. “It’s over, Clay. We found him, he’ll be fine. I’ll go get someone with stretcher,” he said, and left, leaving Clay alone with Justin. 

Grabbing his hand, Clay squeezed it hard, trying to cause a reaction. Justin was absent, his eyes half-opened but blank, his breathing fast and wheezing. Clay checked his forehead, hot and wet. Justin was in delirium, but not dead, at least. That should bring relief, but Clay still had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Justin should’ve woken up. He should’ve been fine. He wasn’t. Something wasn’t right.

Clay raised his head and peered around, looking at the stains on the floor, empty concrete walls, and metal bed with nothing but a crumpled sheet on it. It made him sick. He tried not to imagine what happened there, but he couldn’t help it. 

He desperately wanted to believe that Vinnie was wrong, but being there, his hope evaporated. 

Looking down at the sunken, bruised face of Justin, battered so much that it was almost unrecognizable, he wondered if it was Seth, or others guys, and felt the bile coming to his throat.

Fighting nausea, he felt a sudden urge to get up and run out of that place, the further the better. But he couldn’t leave Justin. Torn, he placed a hand on his chest, moving up and down rapidly. Again, everything became completely surreal. A few minutes ago Justin’s lungs were unable to function and he was practically dead. 

Clay ran a hand across Justin’s shirt and felt the unevenness. Voices and steps echoed down the hall, but he didn’t even hear that. Without thinking twice, he grabbed the bottom of the shirt and lifted it up, revealing a view he didn't want to see.

“Step back, please,” he heard, and a paramedic kneeled beside him. In shock, he got up and felt his throat tightened. 

Gasping for air, he rushed outside, upstairs, and as he walked unsteadily through the house, he noticed the floor and walls stained with blood. Everything that happened began to dawn on him. Justin might die. Jessica might die.

And then, everything went black.

* * *

Her first instinct was to sprang up, but the pain in her side paralyzed her. Unable to move, Jess opened her eyes to see the white ceiling and two rectangular halogen lamps. It was so bright that her eyes ached, so she shut them down. The place seemed to be a hospital, and it didn't surprise her, but she didn't remember how she got there, which made her confused. Icy fear gripped her guts as everything that happened came back to her.  _ Justin. _

_ Justin. _

“Wow. You’re awake?”

The sound of Alex’s voice was not what she expected. Blinking hard, she tilted her head towards the voice and noticed his broad smile.

“Welcome to the club,” he smirked, and seeing the confusion on her face, he pointed at his head. 

It made Jess nauseous. She wanted to say something, but breathing alone caused enough pain, so she remained silent and turned her head to the other side, moaning. To her disappointment, the only thing she could see was the closed door and an empty corridor behind a glass.

Closing her eyes and preparing for the worst, she whispered, “Justin?”

Cold, thin fingers wrapped around her hand. “I only know that he was brought here, too, but I haven't seen anyone, I was here all the time. I only talked to Zach, and he knows nothing, too.” He paused and there was a click. “I've called for a nurse, she’ll give you something for the pain.”

Jess turned back to him and blinked in a thankful gesture. Not a minute passed, and the nurse came in with a morphine drip in her hand. 

“Oh, darling, you’re awake so soon? How are you feeling?”

Jess said nothing, frowning.  _ What do you think? _

“I’ll tell your parents, they’re at the doctor’s office right now.” The nurse set up a drip and left. The cold fluid was flowing into her vein, and the pain almost immediately subsided, but she started to feel dizzy.

“What the fuck happened in there?” Alex asked and got closer, moving to the edge of chair. “Zach told me that Seth shot you. Why did you get in there?”

Ignoring him, she asked, “Where’s Clay?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “No idea.”

Rolling her eyes, Jess moved a hand to the bedside table, looking for her phone. 

“What do you need?”

“I need to call him.”

“Clay's phone's dead, and I don’t think any of your stuff is here,” he said, opening the drawers, one after another. “Yup, it’s empty."

Jess sighed, disappointed again, and instantly regretted that, as a wave of pain pierced her side and she hissed. “What’s the time?” she asked under her breath, so quiet that Alex had to read her lips.

He checked his phone. “Almost three P.M.”

Jess cursed. “I don’t remember passing out.”

“Well, it’s because you’ve passed out. No one ever remembers that.”

"Where's Zach and Tony?"

"At the station, I guess. But don't ask, my dad tells me nothing, he’s too busy to answer his phone."

After a minute of silence, Jess raised her right hand, slowly and carefully, wanting to move the blanket away, but her arm fell limply in the halfway. 

“You won’t see anything, there’s a dressing. I’ve overheard that it was through and through. It, like, ripped your muscles apart, but missed all major organs and vessels. You’ve got, like, ten stitches and that’s all.”

Jess didn't feel any better because of it. It didn’t make her less worried about Justin. Distracted, she looked at the corridor again, and Alex sensed what she was thinking.

“Don’t even try, your mom and dad will kill me if you move from bed,” Alex warned.

Resigned, she looked pleadingly at him. “Please.”

Alex clicked his tongue and rubbed his temple. “Uh, okay,  _ I _ will look for him.” He headed for the door, but stopped with a hand on the handle. “I–, I’m glad you’re...I mean–, you were lucky.”

Fear and worry were twisting her guts, but she couldn’t disagree. “I’m glad to be alive, too.”

Alex lowered his head. “Hope it was worth it.” He said it so quietly that it was barely audible.

Jess frowned, startled. “What did you say?”

“He's using again."

“He wasn’t  _ using _ , Alex, he was dying.”

“Yeah, because he overdosed. You took a bullet for this piece of shit and he probably...”

“Stop that,” she protested in a tearful voice.

“...just teamed up with Seth, agreed to work for him for drugs again, or whatever.”

“Alex.”

He snapped. “Fuck, you could be dead, fuck, Jess!"

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “He was locked in a basement, beaten up like…like an animal, and if I didn’t risk,  _ he _ would be dead.” Out of breath, she paused and gasped. “Maybe he is. I don’t even know.” Her voice cracked, and she turned away, sick of looking at Alex.

“If you say so,” he blurted, still embittered. “But maybe the only reason why Seth tried to kill him was because you came."

That left Jess speechless. Open-mouthed, she looked back at him. “You're just cruel.”

Before Alex replied, the door opened and Jess’s parents went inside. Without saying another word, Alex rushed out, leaving both of them a bit confused. Jess's parents exchanged looks, but didn't comment. 

Her dad approached her bed. “Baby, we were so scared...” he said quietly, grabbing her hand.

She turned her head to the other side and choked a sob.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t feel to, the most important thing is for you to get better,” her mom added and wiped her wet cheek.

Jess closed her eyes. It wasn’t the most important thing. “Please, tell me,” she begged silently. “Did he make it?”

Her parents exchanged the looks again, which made Jess’s heart stop.

“We asked about Justin, but they give the information only to the family members,” her dad explained, even though it was obvious. “The doctor only told us that he was at the intensive care unit. We’ve seen the Jensens when we got here, but they were still waiting for any information back then.”

It didn’t make her any less worried.

“Please, just find Clay or his parents.”

* * *

Tony once told him that crime scenes are quiet. It was about right. If you don't include countless steps and clicks, muffled voices from police radio, clicking camera and rustling paper.

Two ambulances drove away, and Clay was sitting in the third one, feeling dazed. He wanted to drive to the hospital with Justin, but the paramedics made him stay. Probably because he passed out and couldn't put together a sentence. 

And probably because of the blood smeared all over his face.

The paramedic was just wrapping a bandage around his forehead when a policeman approached them, but Clay didn't even hear the questions asked. Everything was muffled and distant. Unable to get rid of the image of Justin’s body on the concrete floor, pale and lifeless, he constantly felt the lump in his throat. He was relieved that Justin's life or death no longer depended on him, but it wasn't right that he wasn’t with him. Justin might just be dying and he wasn't there. 

"He's in shock, please, not now," he heard the words beside his ear, and felt a surge of relief. He strained his eyes to find Tony or Zach, but he didn’t see them. The driveway was empty, which meant that Seth escaped. 

It meant that he was free. 

It meant that he wouldn’t pay for what he’d done.

Feeling his blood boiling with anger, he jumped to his feet, and that was when Tony appeared just in front of him.

“Sit down, everything’s fine. I called your mom and dad, they’re on their way to hospital. You’ll get there too when they’ll patch you up. Okay?”

Still angry, Clay stood still. “Seth’s away, I have to…”

“You don’t have to do anything, Zach and I talked to the officers, I gave them the plate numbers of both cars. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Clay sat down meekly, still angry. “He can’t get away with it. He can’t, Tony,” he said in a broken voice.

"I know. He won't." 

* * *

Sitting on the bed, staring at the relaxed face of Justin sleeping across the room, he felt weirder than ever. A few hours earlier he listened to the lecture about the signs of relapse and the first aid for drug overdose, and he couldn’t get it out of his head. But it seemed surreal. He’d seen Justin high more times than he knew, but it never felt real. He never thought about the dangers. It’s not that he believed it would be impossible for him to die; he just didn’t feel like it would happen to them. It’s like getting into the car, knowing that it can crush in an accident; you know that, but it doesn’t seem real. It’s not real until it hits you.

But many unusual things happened in the past years, so surreal things should be considered, at least, plausible. He’d also never thought that Hannah could kill herself, no one saw it coming. Even though they should. Should they expect Justin to die?

It scared him. All of it terrified him. The idea that he could find Justin on the bathroom floor and he would have to help him. The responsibility. The image of him choking on vomits, in convulsions, feverish, cold, sweaty, dead. 

The helplessness.

Justin sighed in his sleep, and Clay imagined tilting his head, pumping the air into his lungs, compressing his chest. It was just unthinkable. How could he ever save his life, if he had no idea how to save anyone? 

Every time he tried to be a hero, it always turned out to be even worse in the end. 

* * *

The moment Lainie hung her phone, an enormous weight crushed her chest, taking her breath away. Rushing to the hospital, she felt as if she wasn’t able to breathe again. Not until she ran into the ER waiting room and saw her boy. Only then she managed to inhale, deeply. 

Clay was sitting hunched on the chair, holding his knees, with his head down. He didn’t seem to notice her, or Matt, until Lainie put her arms around him, clasping him tightly. Even then, he didn’t react. Matt knelt beside them with a distressed expression on his face.

“God, are you okay? Is your head whole?” Lainie asked, looking at the bandage on Clay’s head. “What happened?”

He nodded glumly, staring absently at the floor. 

Lainie waited for more elaborate response, but there was none. “What about Justin?” she continued.

Clay didn’t answer at first, just shrugged his shoulders. “What about him?” he gasped out after a minute, barely audibly.

Matt straightened up and nervously ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll go and ask.”

“They’ll tell you to wait,” Clay said flatly, with his eyes fixed on the hospital tiles. Matt ignored him, and walked towards the reception desk.

“There you are.” Lainie turned her head to see Bill Standall. “I preferred not to leave him alone.”

“Thank you so much,” Lainie said, standing up and approaching him. “I appreciate that.”

“I didn’t call, as I was told that Tony already have.” Bill moved a few steps away from Clay, so that he couldn’t hear. “He’s okay but in shock, I think,” he assessed quietly.

Lainie crossed her arms, trying to ease the trembling. “How’s Justin? What happened?”

Bill sighed, scratching his head, looking for the right words. 

Lainie didn’t let him answer.  “I know it’s bad, just tell me how much.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, it is bad. He was beaten pretty badly, and overdosed. But I can’t tell you if he took it voluntarily or not. They’re doing their best to stabilize him.”

“Overdosed?” she repeated, placing a hand on her mouth. “Have you found Seth yet?”

“All units are on it, he won’t get away. He's wounded, we have his plates, he won't go far,” he replied firmly, and he seemed pretty sure. “I'd like to tell you more, but so far we don't know much, to be honest.” Bill looked at Clay, now nervously walking in circles. “There’s a lot to process, I know that, but I need Clay to give me his statement later. Detailed. And he’s not very talkative right now, will you talk to him?”

Lainie knew it was necessary. If,  _ when _ , they found Seth, it would be crucial for the prosecution. “I’ll see to it.”

Bill excused her and walked away, and at the same time, Matt appeared by her side, pale, with horror on his face.

“They’re saying he’s in the operating room right now. The doctor will come to us as soon as he can, but we have to wait.”

Lainie felt a heat on her face, and her heart started to beat faster, yet she struggled to remain calm. But she felt weak, helpless, and she didn’t know what to do. Turning off her emotions in the courtroom, after all these years, was easy. It was impossible in there. Tears came streaming down her face. She wanted to say something, but the voice got stuck in her throat. Words were unnecessary. None seemed right.

Matt pulled her in close, embracing her tightly. “Clay was right. He was right from the beginning, Lainie.” Feeling the guilt in his voice, she didn’t know what to say. Nothing would comfort him, and she knew that, because she felt it, too. After Clay had told them that Seth had threatened Justin before, they had no doubts. But they were helpless. There was nothing they could do. They found no way to help Justin. Clay had to do it on his own.

Now, all they could do was to wait. And it was devastating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY for keeping you waiting...it's been nearly finished for over a month or so, but I wasn't sure about it, and I was putting off revising. There were a lot of VERY kind (too kind) comments about the previous chapter, I hope you'll like this one as well. I'm sending you lots of love, my dears <3


	12. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay and Jess struggle with the feeling of uncertainty in the hospital.

"Boys," Lainie called, entering the outhouse, "come, the mail came!"

Her excitement annoyed Clay. Rolling over, he pulled a pillow over his face.

Justin’s reaction was quite the opposite. Coming out of the bathroom, he clapped his hands, clearly sharing her enthusiasm.

"Finally! Let's check, come on." He grabbed a hoodie from the barstool and, throwing it on Clay's bed, he ran out. 

It made Lainie smile, but as she walked over to the bed, worry replaced the smile on her face.

"You're feeling alright, honey?"

Clay muttered something incomprehensible in response, so Lainie took the pillow away. 

"I said I'm tired."

"What were you doing all night?"

"Sleeping."

Her eyebrows raised. "Are you having the nightmares again?"

Clay rolled his eyes and got up. "No, I was studying."

It was bullshit, but she seemed to believe it. "Are you afraid? To open the letters?"

Putting the jeans on, he shrugged his shoulders. "I know I don't get accepted anywhere."

"What? Why? You have great grades."

Clay replied sarcastically, "Yeah, great," and headed to the main house. 

He should be excited. He should be happy to see the smile on Justin's face. But all he felt, sitting beside him at the kitchen table, was emptiness. A few letters laying before him didn't arouse any emotions. 

"You're gonna open them or what?" Matt asked, smiling nervously.

Clay frowned. “You go," he mumbled to Justin.

Justin rubbed his hands with glee. "I don't know which one first."

"The one that matters the most to you," Lainie said, standing behind his back, prepared to peek over his shoulder.

"Okay, so Sanderson!" Justin tore open the envelope chaotically and burst into laughter. A broad smile appeared on Lainie’s face. "I got in!"

Clay frowned, watching as Lainie hugged him tightly.

"We're so proud of you, baby."

"It'll be nice to have you on the campus, if you decide to choose this one.”

" _ Nice _ ," Clay mumbled sarcastically, grabbing the letters. He threw them into the bin, unopened, deaf to loud protests of Matt and Lainie.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

* * *

The sun was shining through the glass, right on Justin’s bed. The warm light should have created an aura of peace, but there was nothing tranquil about this view. With all the bruises, bandages and the oxygen tubes on his face, Justin looked nearly as dead as in the basement where he’d found him.

Clay wanted to look away, but couldn't. He tried to focus on the doctor's words, but couldn't. 

A firm grip on his shoulder woke him up from the trance. He turned his head immediately, alerted, staring right into the wet face of his dad.

Clay blinked hard, turning back to Justin, and then to the doctor. “Can you repeat?”

The doctor sighed with perceptible annoyance, but agreed. “Hemothorax, in the right lung, it was quite significant. It happens when the vessels inside the pleural cavity rupture during the chest injury. The blood gets stuck inside, preventing the lung from its normal movement, hampering the transfer of oxygen. We placed a tube into the pleural space to drain the blood, it may be enough, but if the bleeding continues, a surgery may be necessary.”

The hospital hallway was disturbingly quiet and her words echoed somberly. Beeping of the machines didn’t draw out the sobs that Lainie tried to muffle with a tissue. It made Clay feel even more distressed. For some reason, whenever she cried, he felt guilty.

Probably because she mostly cried because of him.

The doctor continued. “This condition, combined with respiratory depression that occured from overdose, caused the hypoxic brain injury and, subsequently, coma. If oxygen deprivation lasted for more than ten minutes, lasting brain damage is inevitable. There is no loss of brain matter in the CT scan, which is good, but the full assessment is possible only after he wakes up. There may be neurological symptoms, motor impairment...”

“Reversible?” Matt asked in a trembling voice.

“It depends, it’s really hard to say right now how extensive this injury is,” the doctor replied vaguely, shaking her head. “It could be, but it may still take weeks or months. You have to be prepared for the fact that there may be permanent changes. To be honest, he’s lucky to be alive, given his condition.”

Clay fixed his eyes on Justin again, staring on his chest, moving steadily up and down, and then on his immobilised shoulder.

“His – his ribs, and– and shoulder–” he mumbled feebly, not turning around. The image of unevenness covered with black and yellow bruises flashed before his eyes.

The doctor cleared her throat and rustled her papers.

“Well... ‘fractures of 4th to 8th ribs on the right side, and 4th to 6th on the left side, mostly nondisplaced’,” she read. “Flail chest did not occur, he’s breathing independently, it should heal in about six weeks. The shoulder requires surgical intervention, as the right clavicle is fractured in two places and displaced, ligaments are also torn. Plate fixation is necessary, we'll probably do the surgery this week, depending on his condition. We're waiting for an ophthalmologist to assess the left eye due to eye socket fracture and subconjunctival haemorrhage, but it is usually relatively harmless. His skull is also fractured, we suspect he'd had a severe concussion, and there is a subdural hematoma, but it has already partially resorbed naturally, we’ll be giving him steroids to reduce the brain swelling and we’ll do another head scan in a few days. There are also bruisings on the face, neck, arms, legs and abdomen that are not severe. Most of these injuries, as bad as it looks, mostly require just time and analgesics to heal.”

It was overwhelming. It was just too much to comprehend. He expected the worst, but it still left him speechless. All he could think about was that it was selfish to save him. Maybe Justin chose to overdose. Maybe he wanted to end the suffering. All Clay did was make him suffer even more. Coma was Justin’s blessing. At least he didn’t feel the pain.

Clay felt so angry, yet so helpless. All he really wanted to do was to avenge his brother. The moment Jess opened the door, he should’ve ran after Seth. And kill him, with his bare hands.

He closed his eyes. No. His role was to keep Justin alive. 

No, that was selfish.

To come sooner. He could’ve prevented all that, had he found Justin earlier.

The doctor continued speaking, but he didn't listen anymore. It wouldn’t change anything. Justin may be bedridden for the rest of his life and nothing the doctor was saying would change that.

Slowly and hesitantly, Clay went into Justin’s room, gazing at the heart rate monitor. The beeping was distressing and comforting, at the same time. Jelly-legged, he sat beside the bed. 

When he had seen Justin earlier, the light was dim. The hospital room was bright, too bright. Every bruise, every scratch was visible. Reaching out his hand to touch him, he hesitated. Justin seemed fragile. So frail as if he could fall apart into thousand pieces.

Clay’s eyes brimmed with tears and his lower lip started to twitch. He bit it, trying to stop it.

“I let you down,” he admitted quietly, and looked at Justin’s mutilated face. “I always let you down.”

He moved his gaze down, on the marks on his neck. Then he moved his eyes to the bandaged wrists, wondering what was underneath. He tried to recall, but hadn't even looked at them before. 

_ Who did that? Seth? Somebody else? Or...you? _

Hearing the sound of the door opening, he looked to the side. Lainie stood in the doorway.

“Jessica’s dad texted me. She woke up and asked to see you.”

“Oh.” 

_ Oh God, Jess.  _ Paralyzed with fear for Justin, he forgot about her. He didn’t want to leave Justin so soon, but he knew that she must be losing her mind. Unconscious Justin didn’t need him right now.  _ She  _ was awake and, for sure, terrified.

Not that Clay would be able to comfort her anyhow, but he owed her. A lot.

Standing up, he looked at Justin again, and reached his hand out again, wanting to place it on his chest, but he drew it back again. 

_ You're alive.  _

_You are._

* * *

“You’re a douche.”

“You’re a hypocrite.”

Justin rolled his eyes. He hated Clay like this, grumpy and obnoxious. “I opened them.”

“I don’t care.”

“You–”

“Stop it,” Clay cut him off decidedly. “I don’t want to know, I’m not going anywhere either way.”

“You are, or I’ll kick your sorry ass.”

“Do as you please.” 

“Come on.”

“Each year, it’s just getting worse. I can’t take it anymore.”

Justin raised his brows, perplexed. “And if you don’t go, you think it’ll be better?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re wrong, Clay. It’s never easy, and it won’t be if you keep avoiding everything in your life. You think rotting in here will make you happy? Life’s fucked up, you can’t avoid it.”

“Leave me be, okay?” Shrugging his shoulders, Clay walked to the bathroom and closed the door, trying to avoid the conversation. 

Or waiting for Justin to go away.

Clay did that a lot, and it always made Justin annoyed. He usually let go, but this time, he didn’t want to. It was supposed to be a happy day. He didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this.

“Since when you don’t care,” he shouted, trying to shout over the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, and Clay didn’t reply, as suspected. 

Standing helplessly in the middle of the room, he felt disappointed. And hurt. He was really looking forward to this day. Being admitted to the colleges made him happy, but it meant nothing if Clay didn’t celebrate it with him. He didn’t really want to let him isolate himself. 

The good thing was that the bathroom door didn’t have a lock, so Justin pulled himself together and went to Clay. He knew it would make him angry, but he preferred confrontation than avoidance.

“Whoa!” 

The sight of Clay, with his head underwater in the sink, was not what he expected. He immediately grabbed him and pulled him back violently, splashing the water everywhere. Before he realized, he was on the ground, crushing Clay, and the pain pulsated in his head. Moaning, he moved aside, stunned, watching as Clay struggled to his feet and ran out of the bathroom.

“What the fuck!” Justin screamed, rubbing his head. He got up, turned off the tap and slumped back to the floor. “What the fuck was that?”

Hearing a muffled response, Justin got up and stood in the bathroom door, holding his head. 

“What?”

Clay was laying on the bed, with his wet face hid into the pillow. “Hydrotherapy.”

“The fuck?”, Justin frowned with his jaw dropped. “You didn't want to drown?”

Clay turned his head towards him and frowned. “Seriously?”

“What?” Justin asked in a high-pitched voice. “It looked disturbing.”

Not replying, Clay put his cheek back on the pillow. Justin went closer and knelt by his side.

“You started to panic? Was it to stop that?”

Clay didn’t respond again. Justin knew that in the case of Clay, silence is sometimes more telling than any words. Sighing, he placed a hand on his wet shirt.

“You deserve it. You deserve to be a normal guy and go to college. Isn’t it what you’ve always planned?”

Clay was silent for a minute, then raised his head and fixed his eyes on him. Weirdly, blankly. 

“I don’t have any plans anymore.”

“Is it because of Ani?”

Ignoring his comment, Clat kept staring.

Justin frowned, disturbed. “Dude. You’re creeping me out.”

“I’m happy for you.” Clay blinked hard.

“‘Happy’ is the last adjective I’d ever use to describe you.” Feeling uncomfortable, Justin turned around and sat on Clay’s bed, backward to him.

Clay shuffled on the bed. “That was nerdy.”

“I’m learning from the best.” Justin smirked, and a hint of a smile flashed across Clay's face as well. “Don’t decide today, okay? Think it over. And start taking your fucking pills instead of drowning yourself.”

“It’s not drowning, it works and I didn’t make this up. Google it if you don’t believe.”

“Don’t know, don’t care. You’ll drive me crazy.”

* * *

A soft knock on the door immediately made her heart beat faster. Before she managed to say anything, the door opened and Clay peeked in. His doleful face evoked an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Panicked, she compulsively moved to sit up, but instead, she just flinched and hissed in pain.

“Am I...bothering you? I can come back later.”

“No, no, no, please,” she gasped and closed her eyes, waiting for the wave of pain to subside. “Justin. H–How’s Justin.”

“In coma,” Clay replied dully, entering and closing the door behind. He stayed there, away from her, not even looking at her, visibly consumed with guilt. Jess waited for him to say more, but he was silent.

“It’s–, I mean, he’ll be fine, right?” she asked, but looking at Clay, it was hard to get the feeling that anything would ever be fine.

With his eyes still fixed on the ground, Clay shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

The voice got stuck in her throat, as she imagined Justin in the hospital bed, and she uncontrollably burst into tears. Turning her head away, she covered her face and sobbed like a child. The good news didn’t come and it broke her down. She had desperately wanted to believe that Clay could’ve comforted her. 

“Jess .” Clay approached her slowly, and she tried to choke back the sobs, but couldn’t. He sat at the foot of the bed and patiently waited for her to calm down. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he finally said, still avoiding looking at her. Fretful, he kept looking around.

She wiped her face with the blanket and reached her hand out to him. He hesitated, but grabbed it and for a second, he looked at her wet face. Jess saw the sorrow, so deep that she felt bad that she started to cry. It must’ve made him feel even more guilty.

“Don’t apologise, you’ve done nothing wrong,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. 

Clay bit his lip. “It’s my fault. You could’ve died. I shouldn’t have taken you there.”

“And you’d be locked up in there together with Justin, or dead. Stop it, Clay. It was Seth. Not you.”

“I was stupid. I was so stupid.” Clay took his hand away and stood up, nervously, only to sit down again. He sighed. “Did it hurt?” he asked, and immediately started to sputter, “Of course it hurt. Stupid question. I’m so stupid, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not that bad, it’s okay, Clay. Calm down,” she cut him off in a calm tone. He hid his face in his arms, visibly upset. 

Perplexed, she couldn’t find any words to comfort him. She needed to comfort herself. “Can you tell me?”

“What?”

“About Justin.”

Clay was silent for a minute, then mumbled, “He’s stable. He’ll live, I guess, if he wakes up. The doctors say that his brain may be damaged.”

Even though it didn’t sound too enthusiastic, it made Jess hopeful, again.

“But when he wakes up, he may also be okay, right?”

“I guess, I don’t know. He’s–” Clay paused and inhaled loudly, looking for the right words. “He’s better off unconscious. The pain, it–, it would–” Clay stopped again. He clearly found it difficult to speak about it. “He’s broken and battered. Pretty badly.”

Jess nodded sympathetically. “He’ll pull through, I’m sure. You didn’t save his life for nothing.”

Clay didn’t respond, looking abashed.

Jess continued, “Thank you for that. For saving him.”

“I’m not so sure I–”

“You gotta be shitting me!” Jess blurted.

Clay frowned and looked at her, confused. “What?”

“You found him, and kept fighting for him. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, stop tormenting yourself, you didn’t give up, you saved him. Period.”

Her breathing was clearly laboured, as the morphine stopped working. Jess felt more and more pain with each word, and she tried not to show it, but Clay noticed it and gave her a concerned look, and Jess finally got it. It was a survivor’s guilt. 

Quietly, Clay said, “You’ve paid a high price. And I wouldn't do shit if it wasn't for you.”

“So I guess he owes us both infinite lattes at Monet’s,” she said, which made Clay smile faintly, but the smile faded as quickly as it appeared.

“I guess I should feel better now that we found him, but I don’t.” Jess reached out her hand again, and this time, Clay grabbed it without hesitation. “Can you forgive me?”

Jess wanted to say that there’s nothing to forgive, but it wasn’t what Clay needed to hear. “Yes.”

Nodding gratefully, he stood up. “I guess I’ll go get a nurse?”

“It might be a good idea,” she agreed. “Can you do me one more favour?”

“Anything.”

“I need to see him.” Before he said a word, Jess added, “They won't let me get out of bed, and I can’t wait. I just can’t. I need to see him.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He looks really bad. Like – really bad. It won’t make you feel better, believe me.”

“You said ‘anything’.”

Clay sighed and scratched his head. “He’s on the different floor, it...I, uh, I’ll try. I promise. Alright?”

A gentle smile spread over her face. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse all my medical bullshit. I did *some* research, but I'm not a doctor, blahblahblah, you know.  
> Not much is going on in this chapter, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments! Love you!


	13. Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can you breathe and not be alive? Can you be alive and not breathing?"

The feeling was odd. Like he was underwater, but not drowning. It was bright, but he was unable to open his eyes. He tried to look around, but his head didn’t move. He felt neither his arms nor his legs. A tremendous fear gripped him - he was bodiless.

_ Am I dead? _

The distorted voices echoed in his head. Unrecognizable, frightening. He couldn’t say whether they were real or not. 

Suddenly, he felt warmth, but it wasn’t physical. Distressed, he inhaled and exhaled again, surprised not to feel his chest moving. Was he really breathing, or was it his imagination? Can you breathe and not be alive? Can you be alive and not breathing?

Thousands of questions swirled in his head, but he couldn't focus on anything. His thoughts circled everywhere and nowhere.

The voices suddenly went silent, but it wasn’t comforting. He was trapped, but couldn’t say where. The only thing he knew was that he had to get away. He had to open his eyes, break free and run away. 

A soft, muffled voice cut through the silence. “Please, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Confused, he focused on the voice. Where did it come from?

It was female. Female and familiar, but at the same time, completely strange. He tried to form a sentence in his head, but the words blurred together and everything seemed incomprehensible. He wouldn't say anything with his mouth closed anyway, and he wasn’t able to open it.

“Don’t say anything, take your time.”

It confused him even more. How did she know? 

He couldn’t help being scared. He was still, but couldn’t say if sitting or lying. It was even worse when he stopped trying to move or speak. There was nothing to focus on, only fright. 

Then a familiar smell hit him. Fragrant, floral. Again, familiar. It brought a surge of calmness. There was something about it that made him feel serene.

At the same moment, he opened his eyes and the smell disappeared. He looked around the room and instantly recognized the place. It was his bedroom in their old flat. 

“Mom?”, he heard his own voice, high and childlike. It surprised him. Even more surprising was the sight of his small, soft hands. His face was wet with tears, his breathing was rapid. “Mommy, I had a nightmare,” he said in a quivering voice. No one replied. He called out again, coming out of bed. Entering the living room, he looked around and found Amber, lounging on the coach. Her eyes were closed, so he shook her to wake her up. She didn’t even flinch.

Trembling, he climbed next to her and, careful not to touch the syringe sticking out of her elbow pit, he cuddled up to her.

Still terrified.

* * *

Jess peeked through the half-opened door, hesitating. Clay was sitting beside the bed, reading a book aloud. She didn’t want to interrupt, so she entered the room quietly. Standing there, she started to listen to the story, but after a minute Clay stopped.

“You don’t have to sneak up anymore.” He rubbed his eyes and closed the book. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s...bearable.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m gonna miss our trips with you in the nurse uniform.”

Clay rolled his eyes. “Not funny.”

“I’m not laughing, I’m appreciating. I’ve already said that dozens times, but thank you for smuggling me.” She came closer, circled the bed and grabbed Justin’s hand, the only free one. His other arm was immobilized in a sling. “It’s so weird to be home when he’s still here.”

Clay sighed. “Yeah.”

Jess leaned over and kissed Justin on the cheek to mark her presence. “Hi there. Everybody’s asking about you.” She went silent. Her mind was blank and she didn't know what to say. Doctors said that talking might help to bring him back, but she didn't know what to say. What can you say? That the sun is shining nicely today? “The sun is nice today,” she said, feeling dumb. “My dad made a pie today. You could use some pie. You’re skin and bones.”

“Finally I’m more muscular than him.” Clay said it grimly, but it brought a smile to Jess’s face anyway. She remembered how Justin used to laugh at Clay for being ‘scrawny’.

“I have to agree, you are. You hear that, Justin? You can’t pick on him anymore.”

“Well, I’m still a nerd, so he can.”

The smile on Jess’s face vanished as suddenly as it appeared, when she turned to Clay again. “How are the results?”

Clay put the book away and looked away through the window. “Blood work is better, the brain swelling subsides, they scheduled the surgery for tomorrow.”

It was a good news, but Jess was too worried to feel relief. “Is it safe right now?”

“I guess so.” 

She saw that Clay was anxious, too. He was rubbing his shaky hands together, agitated. He looked like he couldn't sit still.

“Does it mean that he’ll wake up soon?”

Clay shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I kept hoping he’d...but–” he paused to take a deep breath. Lowering his head, he looked as if he shrank. “Each time he flinches, or moans, I think that…” His voice cracked. “And he’s not.”

Jess approached Clay and knelt beside him, placing her hands on his. She could feel the trembling. Clay probably felt uncomfortable, but she didn’t back down.

“They said it’s a process. Hold on to hope, he’ll come back to us, eventually,” she whispered, feeling the tears brimming in her eyes. She said it, even though she herself was full of doubts. 

There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by the regular beeping of Justin’s monitor. Both of them felt weird with their hands clenched together, but none of them moved back. Somehow, it was soothing. As if they shared the load they were bearing.

“I can’t stop thinking about one thing,” Jess suddenly confessed. “When I talked to the police, they asked me about a car. Then I remembered that I’ve seen it, speeding away from the house. Who was it?”

Many emotions flashed across his face, fear mixed with hurt. But he remained silent., 

And he took his hand away.

“Was it a dealer? Was this guy involved in anything that happened to Justin?” she continued.

Clay turned his head away, and he said under his breath, “I don’t know.”

Frowned, Jess studied his face for a long minute. It was clear that he knew more than he was saying. 

She didn’t know how much.

“You’ve seen the driver?” She wasn’t giving up.

“Yes, we’ve all seen him.”

“And?”

Clay tried to hide the trembling lower lip, but Jess noticed it anyway. It made her even more puzzled. Why was he so distressed?

“I don’t know, it was just some guy.”

“Isn’t it odd?”

“Everything’s odd,” Clay agreed with a heavy sigh, standing up. “You want some coffee? The coffee machine here makes disgusting coffee, I highly recommend it.”

_ A smooth change of subject. So subtle. _

Jess shook her head slowly, absently. She only felt more confused. Hearing that Clay left the room, she turned her head towards the door. Clay stood behind the glass with a gloomy face. When their eyes met, he hung his head and walked away.

Jess stood up, slowly, careful not to evoke pain in her side. She sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed Justin’s hand again, wondering if he heard what they were saying. 

Wondering if he knew the answers to her questions.

“You  _ do  _ know,” she said quietly, feeling the tears brimming her eyes, “right? You know what really happened.”

The tears streamed down her face. 

“Or you don’t remember anything. Maybe it’s for the best. You couldn’t be the same after – ”

The voice got stuck in her throat and she fell silent.

Sometimes his pupils under his eyelids moved. Sometimes his fingers tightened lightly on her hand. Now, nothing. She desperately needed contact, any confirmation that he was there, not only his body.  _ He _ .

“I need you to be back,” she whispered. “I miss you so much.”

* * *

“You’re awfully quiet today.”

Clay didn’t reply, staring at the dark red carpet. The color of blood. 

_ Jess’s blood in the hallway. _

“You wanna talk about Justin?”

“No.”

_ Justin’s limp body. _

“I feel we should talk about it.”

“I don’t want to.”

Dr. Ellman’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t want to come here today, but you did. Why?”

Clay didn’t even shrug his shoulders. He sat still, staring at one point on the ground, as if mesmerized.

“We can sit in silence, if you wish. You’ve been through a traumatic experience, you're distressed, tired, you're on edge. Maybe you feel like you've failed and you're feeling guilty, numb…”

“I didn’t have a  _ traumatic experience, _ Justin did,” Clay protested, louder than he intended. His words echoed around the room and he shrank, involuntarily.

Crossing his legs, Dr. Ellmann tilted his head. “You were also affected by what happened. It does not diminish Justin’s suffering if you admit that. You have every right to…”

“Stop it!” Clay shouted, cutting him off. A heavy silence fell upon the room again and it made his breathing sound excruciatingly loud. He looked up at Dr. Ellman and felt embarrassed. Before he realized, he stood up and ran out of the office, and the moment he felt the wind on his face, he started running ahead. He knew the doctor wouldn’t come after him, but he did it just in case. He needed to escape. Anywhere. To run away from the thoughts that rattled in his head. 

_ I feel useless. _

_ I should’ve let him die. _

_ I am powerless. _

_ I shouldn’t have rescued him. _

_ I am to blame. _

Out of breath, he stopped and sat on the curb, feeling dizzy. 

_ It would be better if he’d die. _

He wanted to scream, to yell at the top of his lungs, cursing everything and everyone, but he was silent. The only sounds he made were loud gasping. 

He realized what he’d done and he cursed himself. His mom wouldn’t leave him alone. Her concerned looks were too exhausting. 

Sighing heavily, he stood up and reluctantly, he returned to Dr. Ellman’s office. 

The doctor wasn’t surprised. He didn’t even leave his chair, as if he expected him to come back.

Clay closed the door behind him and sat back on the coach, tensed up.

_ Justin would like that,  _ he thought, gazing around nervously. So he started.

“I feel guilty.”

* * *

Zach hated hospitals. Their smell. The cold, bright light and nurses in crocs. There was something ominous in the sound the shoes make. At least that was what Zach thought, sitting restlessly on the plastic chair. Very uncomfortable. The back flexed under his weight, not providing enough support to the spine.

Charlie handing him a paper cup distracted him from his thoughts. “Hot chocolate. I've thought you could use some.”

Raising eyebrows, Zach looked at him, confused, but after a sip he felt a genuine gratitude. High amount of sugar and the aftertaste of the vending machine were enough to make him stop thinking about how much he didn’t want to be there. But as soon as he'd emptied the cup, the thoughts returned.

“I still don't get why we skipped classes to come here. After all, we won't see him or anything,” he complained.

“What, you’d rather be in school?” Charlie raised his brows, looking as if he was ready to mock him.

“Well, yeah, anywhere but here.”

“I get that you don’t like hospitals, but Justin…”

Zach didn’t let him finish. “No, you don’t, it’s not that I  _ don’t like _ hospitals, my dad died here,” he said, dead serious. 

Unfazed, Charlie didn’t let Zach deter him. “I get that,” Charlie repeated quietly, staring straight at him. “My mom died here.”

Zach’s jaw dropped. He didn’t expect  _ that _ . “What?”

“She was in and out of hospitals for a few years, and eventually died when I was nine.” He paused. “I let go of my anger a long time ago, but I feel you. But Justin’s our friend. Our brother. We should be here, at least support Clay. I know it doesn’t change anything that we’re here, but, I dunno. It seems right.”

Speechless, Zach just leaned forward and put his arms around him, almost crushing him in a tight hug. Before he managed to apologise, Charlie moved away and standing up he called out, “Jess! Hey, how are you?”

Zach stood up, too, but fixed his eyes on the floor. It was the first time he’d seen Jess since the day she was shot. 

It wouldn't be easy, he'd known that, but he felt more embarrassed than he'd expected. For not reaching out, for avoiding her. Angry at himself, he couldn't look her in the eye.

“Charlie, Zach...it’s so nice of you that you’ve come.”

“You’re holding up?”

A loud sigh. “I’m so stressed that I threw up. Twice."

Charlie hissed. 

“I thought there was nothing worse than sneezing, but, well, there is.”

“Yeah, I bet there is.” Charlie scratched his head. "I know that I keep asking...but I gotta ask..."

"I don't know anything yet," Jess instantly replied, already knowing the question. "I'm just heading over there, I hope I'll get to see him before."

"Thanks, let us know if you need anything. Or Clay. If Clay needs anything."

"Got it." Jess cleared her throat. "Zach, you're okay?"

Zach listened to the conversation in silence, but when Jess addressed him directly, it forced him to raise his head and answer.

“Hmm? Yeah, totally. Totally." Nodding, he could feel his face frowning in a grimace that certainly didn't look like a radiant smile, and cursed himself for that. As he looked at Jess, his eyes instantly moved down to her waist and his insides turned.

“You’re not looking okay.”

Zach looked away again before he muttered, “I’m sorry."

“For what?” she asked, surprised. 

"I wasn't there for you." His voice trembled slightly, which made him feel even more uneasy. "I didn't even text you."

“You’re kidding? You, like, patched me up.  _ I _ need to  _ thank  _ you. Seriously. Thank you.”

Then he realized why he didn't reach out to her. He was too afraid that it would all come back to him. And as Jess stood before him, it did. 

Seth waving his gun around. Fear. Blank, lifeless expression on Justin's face. The syringe. Clay’s panting, two gunshots. Obscurity. Jess whimpering in pain. 

He thought she'd die. He thought Seth would get down and shoot all of them.

The terror on her face. It was this kind of fright that he'd never seen before. 

His own shaky hands pressing on her warm, wet waist. Her fingernails sticking in his forearm. The weight of her body on his shoulders. Her blood on his hands that he couldn’t wash off.

And there she was, standing before him, pale and anxious, but alive and whole. There was a tightness in his throat and he wasn't able to say a word. If he could, he would say how glad he was that she was in one piece.

Quiet steps echoing through the corridor saved Zach from the necessity to say anything. Dragging his feet, Clay headed in their direction, looking like he was waiting for the axe to fall. Jess turned around, visibly upset.

"It's already started?" she asked quietly, disappointed. 

Clay only nodded in response. His arms were folded and he looked as if he shrank. Leaner than ever. 

“So it started,” Zach said, sighing heavily and sat down. He watched as Jess embraced Clay, and Charlie joined them. 

Zach didn’t. Couldn’t. His legs were too jelly.

* * *

Something was off.

Justin walked home after his evening shift, just as usual, but it wasn’t quite usual.

He didn’t pass anyone on the street. Not a single person. No one. It was late, but not  _ that _ late.

Approaching the outhouse, he noticed that the lights were on, but when he entered, Clay was nowhere to be found.

Strangely, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Clay. And then he realized that he couldn’t recall anything that happened before. Everything was blurred. 

It had happened to him before. He must’ve taken something and blacked out. Cursing, he kicked his bed. He was supposed to be clean. Why was it so hard?

Angry at himself, he went to the main house, searching for Clay, but he wasn’t there, too.

“Clay? Mom, dad?” he shouted, standing under the stairs. No one answered. He looked outside the window and to his surprise, both Priuses were on the driveway.

“Where the hell are you?” he muttered, climbing the stairs. Just in case, he checked all the rooms. Feeling like he was on a bad trip, he needed to talk to someone. Anyone. If not Clay, then Jess.

He put his hand in his pocket in search of the phone, but the pocket was empty. All his pockets were empty. 

“Shit, where did I leave it?”

Looking around, he went downstairs again, but a strange noise coming from the front of the house distracted him. He peeked through the window, but the only thing he saw was darkness. Complete blackness.

Confused, he grabbed the doorknob and the second he touched it, the door burst open and water started to flow inside, violently, pushing him back. He fell to the floor and started to choke. Not able to catch his breath, he tried to stand up, but he couldn’t cut through the water. It flooded his eyes, poured into his mouth and into his nose, pressing him to the ground. Instinctively he wanted to scream, but he needed the air to do that. Light-headed, he felt his lungs burning, begging for oxygen. __

His body wanted to fight, but instead, he passed out, being sure of one thing only.

He’s dying.

To his surprise, the second he let it go, his lungs filled with air and his eyes opened. The brightness hurt them, so he narrowed his eyes and blinked quickly, trying to adjust to the light. Still, he couldn’t see much.

“Justin –”, he heard a muffled voice.

“Clay?” he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if he did, or mumbled something incomprehensible. His own voice surprised him. It was hoarse, unfamiliar. He didn’t sound like himself. 

It flashed through his mind that maybe he woke up as someone else.

He felt a squeeze to his hand. “It’s Clay. You’re safe. In the hospital.”

The numbness of his body ceased to startle him, but he still felt a strange fear. Anxiety. And sheer exhaustion. 

His eyelids dropped, he gave up. The light was too bright. He was too weak.

“Are you in pain?” Clay said, but Justin couldn’t gather his thoughts to form any response, as he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

As if he was underwater again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry you have to wait so long for each chapter. I wish I had more time to write, but I have so much on my mind that I don't even – whatever, it's not important - I hope you've enjoyed a new part of this story.  
> Thank you for your positive feedback, it's very encouraging and motivating <3


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